You Must Know Who I Am
by restfulsky5
Summary: Bruce fights to regain the parts of himself that he lost while saving Gotham, including his short term memory. In a twist of circumstances, Selina finds herself right where she wanted to be - by his side. He fears that he may never truly know her the way he'd imagined. She discovers that he may have been right about her all along. A post-TDKR fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: I suppose I'm a little late to the party here, but better late than never, right? I've "jumped fandoms," happily so, for writing a story about Bruce and Selina is a heck of a lot of fun. They are, after all, the ones who drew me to this site in the first place! This story picks up a few days after Batman carries the bomb over the bay to save Gotham in TDKR. It will move through and beyond the ending movie scenes. Will they have a family? _You will just have to wait and see. _Note that this story will cover Bruce & Selina well beyond TDKR.

Thank you, _a veritable iron rose_, for beta-ing, taking the time to clean up this chapter, and giving me things to ponder to make this story better! The editing has made a significant difference!

Thank you, _YLJedi_, for giving my completed chapters a read through. I know that took time and work. The feedback you've given me has been very helpful tightening up details, including those for the big picture. Thank you, also, for your encouragement!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the characters from DC Comics.

* * *

_Do not be decoy'd elsewhere!_

_That is the whistle of the wind - it is not my voice;_

_That is the fluttering, the fluttering of the spray;_

_Those are the shadows of leaves._

_- Walt Whitman, 1859, __Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking -_

The call came mid-afternoon the first day, but Selina brushed it off as she folded the last of her meager clothing into a suitcase. When the number came across the screen again later that evening, she didn't bother then, either. She was packing and leaving the country the very next morning, and how had Dr. Thompkins remembered her alternate phone number, anyways? The Clean Slate had erased all her active and past numbers under her legal name, leaving only those registered under an alias. This one was one she used intermittently - a Ms. Catherine Asher. The next day, the call came in the morning, five minutes before Selina planned to leave her apartment for the airport. She finally answered, God knows why. Months later Selina still wouldn't deny that it had, at the very least, gutted her well-laid plans. For now, it remained an annoying reminder of why being indebted to anyone led to trouble.

"Selina, it's Leslie."

Selina braced herself against the torrent of memories that had flooded back ever since the doctor's number had popped up on her tiny phone screen. Now, hearing Leslie's voice ushered in a menagerie of memories of the woman who'd offered refuge to those healing from their wounds in the midst of Crime Alley; of a mother-figure who'd tried her best to nurture the best in an abandoned young girl hell-bent on saving only herself; of a doctor who'd treated the injuries Selina garnered from her sins, no questions asked.

Selina expelled a breath slowly and sank down onto her sofa. She put the phone on speaker beside her, tucked her clutch tightly underneath her crossed arms, and waited. She'd not talked to Dr. Leslie Thompkins in over two years, ever since she'd gotten in over her head with the wrong people. They'd gone their separate ways, but Selina instantly deduced the strain laced in the doctor's greeting.

"Selina?"

"I'm here," she admitted.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but…" a slightly rattly sigh echoed through the speaker. "Selina, I need your help."

Selina's fingers curled around the cool leather of her clutch. Her instincts had been correct. This wasn't a friendly farewell. "Yes?" She tried not to let her tone betray how all this was terribly inconvenient and quite possibly the worst timing she could ever imagine.

"This is," the doctor hesitated, "not a good time, I take it."

Selina rolled her eyes. "Leslie, it's -"

"I'm short-handed at the clinic," Leslie interrupted. "You can't imagine the need since Bane's occupation of Gotham and now that he's gone...we're...I..."

Selina counted to ten. She didn't want to hear this. Any of it. Patience had never been her virtue. Hell, she didn't have a single virtue in her body.

"Could you… possibly come help me for a few days? I have a particular patient I need help with. No training necessary. Besides, I know you'd be able to do mostly anything I ask you to do, for the most part."

"Why me?"

"I need someone light of foot and quick of mind."

Selina dropped her head back, half-smiling. "That I am."

"I remember." Leslie mused. "You never let a chance go by to sneak into my clinic undetected. Always proving you were ahead of everyone else, even if you were but a wisp of a child."

"I have plans, you know." Selina sighed, now not even bothering to hide her displeasure. Her watch read a minute past the time she'd set to leave for the airport.

"I wouldn't be calling you if -"

"Leslie," Selina cut in before she could stop herself. Memories provoked by the doctor's request flashed through her mind. It was like the plague, the goodness of Bruce Wayne. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to rid her mind of his face and her heart of his damned hero complex. She didn't have room for that in her life. It cramped her style, but her tongue wouldn't listen. "I'll be there."

"Thank you." Leslie's voice brightened noticeably.

"Not this afternoon, but probably tonight." She reached over to her cellphone and pressed end, asserting control by forgoing the unnecessary courtesy of a goodbye. If she truly wanted to, she could find a way out of fulfilling Leslie's request. She was certain of it. She maneuvered her way out of plenty.

Uncrossing her legs, Selina stared dispassionately at the two pieces of luggage she'd prepared for the afternoon flight. She wasn't taking much, only the suitcase and carry-on. Anything that remained in the apartment would go to Jen. Selina had cleaned out her fridge and cupboards the day before. She'd erased her name and everything tied to it the day before that, the drive with the Clean Slate now safely tucked in her brassiere. Her flight to Paris promised a new start for future but gave no certainty that her inner turmoil would end. As she sat contemplating how everything had changed in a blink of an eye, her suppressed, unshed tears festered behind her eyes, withering every sane thought in her mind. Agreeing to help Leslie with her patients? Good Lord, what had she'd been thinking?

A solitary tear fell from the corner of her eye before she even realized it, slowly streaking down her perfect complexion. It slipped, and then another slipped, and another; like a dam having broken, the hairline cracks having burst open at Leslie's call. Selina kicked off her heels and curled into herself, rocking as the hurt she'd accumulated and tamped down the past five months finally unleashed. She allowed herself to weep; allowed the bottled up guilt claw up her throat with such unprecedented emotion that she could barely breathe. She spared herself nothing, for experiencing the pain made it all tangible. She could finally feel him although she'd never have the chance to find out what it would be like to kiss him a third time.

Selina knew exactly what she'd been thinking of this morning.

Bruce Wayne's funeral commenced this very hour.

* * *

Unfurling herself from the sofa was no small task. However, after she'd berated herself for falling into a weeping mess, she finally found it within herself to tamp down her emotions with the same ease that she'd used to squash a fly. Then, she weighed her excuses, and there was but one thing left to do.

Still, as the taxi turned into the drive and Selina arrived at Wayne Manor with a completely different itinerary than the first time she came, she duly blamed Wayne for the fact that she missed her flight, her _expensive_ flight. The waste didn't bother her all that much as Selina would find some "generous" soul to reimburse her by way of jewels, eventually.

Selina instructed the driver to drop her off in front of the door and stepped out onto the driveway as if she had every right to be paying her respects to the wasteful, dimwitted, playboy of Gotham, albeit after the actual ceremony. Her black dress skimmed over her body with smooth precision, the broad-rimmed hat on her head effortlessly cloaking her emotions. Only her face, hidden in the shadows and slightly swollen from her tears, betrayed her. Unconsciously, she rested a hand upon her collarbone as the memory of the last time she'd walked along the same path resurfaced. She'd been dressed similarly, except for the hat and lack of Martha Wayne's pearls. On that day, the holiday remembrance at Wayne Manor had been well-attended to honor their deceptively-placed hero, Harvey Dent. Today, the grounds echoed silence in an unearthly hollowness, despite the scent of a freshly cut lawn wafting over her. How odd that someone had taken the time, proceeding Wayne's financial losses and now, his death, to trim the yard.

The gated plot of land loomed before her, holding the empty but fresh grave of Bruce Wayne - the grave she was incapable of ignoring. She continued past the manor and could not subdue her surprise at the man observing her from the expanse of a front window. It was the butler who'd handed her the key and unknowingly enabled her all the more to begin the domino effect leading to the demise of his employer. From beneath the shade of her hat, Selina let down her guard. Grief - the ancient, raw kind that Selina had only read about in books and turned a blind eye to in her own life (with the exception of this very morning) - lined every crevice of the old man's face. It hinted at a history between them. That the butler had an attachment to Bruce was, in Selina's opinion, somewhat of an anomaly. They'd been close. _They had to have been_. Maybe he knew Bruce's secret, and maybe-

_Bruce_. She huffed in disbelief. She'd taken to calling the man by his first name, and even worse, contemplated the relationships he had outside of his mask. It wasn't any of her business, as tempting as it was to continue humanizing the Batman. Her eyes dashed away from the window, the butler's crumpling expression unraveling the emotions she thought she'd tautly wrapped as she stepped out of her apartment.

She lifted her chin and set along the path towards the small graveyard. With a sweep of her hand, the gate swung open. It was easy to find. Wayne's headstone, the newer of the two beside it, mocked her fight for composure. She set her back ramrod straight, silently reading his name over and over again as if to carve it into her heart.

She couldn't form any spoken words. She didn't feel she needed to. What she did feel, all the guilt, she whispered from a battered corner of her heart before her own scorn for vulnerability sealed her emotions safely inside. The man behind the cape and cowl, whoever he'd been, reduced her years of independence, the years of fight-or-flight.

_I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. For all I did to you. Every last part. _

The Bruce Wayne she'd met seemed a far cry from the tabloids. Eight years of banishment, crippled and alone with the exception of his butler, surely chiseled away at the worthless, self-serving billionaire facade Wayne once held up for Gotham. Upon their second meeting, he'd been caring, altogether too forgiving, and eager to know her. He'd been suave, of course. Once or twice he'd showed his wit and charm, and-

_No more of this_.

She held back a remnant of a sob with years of skill and a tenacious effort. Her shoulders remained an unyielding stronghold as she pitted her skillful control against gripping sadness - and won.

_I knew this wasn't a good idea. It's your fault, Bruce Wayne, for making me care. For making me sorry for every part I played._

For a short amount of time, Bruce had changed her with those simple words -_ I think there's more to you_.

Without a doubt, Selina could no longer deny she once wished there was more to her. But that was when Bruce Wayne walked this earth. She couldn't be that woman now.

She didn't even know where to begin.

* * *

_Flashback, one day ago-_

A droning hum pulled him from slumber, and immediately, Bruce wished he'd not awakened. Joining the chorus were higher-pitched, successive beeps that could drive a man to madness. Already entrenched in a mind-boggling migraine, his eyes remained dormant despite his best efforts, exhaustion and excruciating pain stripping away his ability to fight.

Breathing slowly, he depended upon his training to keep himself calm and observant of his surroundings with his other senses. He took stock of his body, for something else was amiss- he could not identify where he was in the first place, or how he got here. He'd climbed out of the pit. Had he escaped, merely to be caught again? Beaten? He shifted his aching knees. Momentarily stunned by the onslaught of throbbing pain in his side, he stilled the best he could, panting as he regained control of his body. Although this was uncomfortable, he'd been in worse situations before. He lay, wherever it was that he lay, for it wasn't his cave or master bedroom.

A hand rested on his forehead. Involuntarily he shied away, but another hand braced his head. "Ah, you're awake."

He foolishly grunted, unable to help himself.

"A migraine again?"

He flinched at the very word.

"I'm giving you something for the pain now." The hand stroked his hair back once. "It'll help you very, very soon."

Familiar but far away, the voice settled over him as the drug took over. His body craved the loose-limbed feeling seeping into every agonized muscle. The familiar ache in his knees diminished and his migraine retreated to a manageable level.

"Can you try to open your eyes for me?"

Finding that he'd gained a little strength, he fought and won. Through narrow slits, he observed a woman bending over him, silhouetted by the soft lights behind her.

"Where am I?" His voice, rough and cracked, bespoke of disuse.

"Somewhere safe."

He forced his eyes to open wider, finally seeing clearly the woman standing above him. She smiled softly, gray hair and lines revealing her to be about thirty years his senior. He knew this woman. Alfred knew this woman - and trusted her.

"Leslie." Bruce focused on the face of Dr. Leslie Thompkins, a woman he'd known since the time of his parents' murder.

"Yes." Her faint smile widened. "I'm glad you're finally awake. How are you feeling?"

"Where am I?" Quiet and weak, his voice was lost in the throes of the machines.

"You were hurt and came directly to me. Do you remember?"

He had nothing to appease her, or himself. "No."

The doctor's smile flickered. "Do you remember your name?"

"Bruce Wayne." His throat burned. He coughed and Leslie quickly brought a cup of water to his lips and placed a straw in his mouth.

"Drink slowly, Bruce."

He took three sips, and then spent from the effort, refused to drink more.

"Who is your butler?" Leslie asked softly.

"Alfred… Pennyworth."

"Can you tell me today's date?"

"I..." Unable to answer, he queried her in return. His voice remained oddly strained and fatigued. "Why… all… the questions?"

"Try for just the month," she urged gently.

"Aug… August. No… October."

Her expression shadowed. "Do you recall where you were a day ago?"

"Climbing...out of a pit." To get to Gotham. He widened his eyes. "Bane."

"Bane is no longer a threat to Gotham, Bruce. The Batman took care of that."

He didn't remember taking care of it. His expression told her as much for the doctor's face fell.

"You were in a pit?" Leslie nodded, urging him on. He frowned, coming up with absolutely nothing to add. "That's more than what you told me before."

"Before?"

"Yesterday," she said quietly. "We talked yesterday, Bruce, and the day before that. You didn't climb out of the pit yesterday, because you were here, same as four days ago. And it's February."

Bruce stared at her, uncomfortable with the implications. Resigned, he asked, "What happened, Leslie?"

"You sustained a traumatic brain injury. You were also stabbed on your right side, below your lungs. Do you remember?"

"No," he whispered.

"Fortunately, it missed your vitals. Unfortunately, it was tipped with poison, which accounts for the severe pain you feel in the affected area. I synthesized an antidote for the poison and now your body is working very hard to cleanse itself. There are previous injuries we need to discuss, and eventually, formulate a game plan. Know that for the most part your body is healing. You can stay here as long as you want. I've admitted you under an alias, Thomas Highland. I'll write it down for you, along with a few other things, so you can refresh your memory when needed."

"My memory loss...is it permanent?"

"I've seen short memory return with therapy after a few weeks but it could be months, Bruce."

"Leslie...my head...it's...it hurts." He paused, drawing a ragged breath and unsure how to even describe his pain.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I've increased your medication already," she murmured.

"Painkillers...no."

"Bruce-"

"No," he whispered harshly. "Please. Can't...think."

"Stubborn man, I'm not about to let you call the shots this time," she huffed. "You're not invincible, you know."

He closed his eyes, the simplicity of feeling safe overwhelming, as if this refuge was what he'd wanted. Leslie, as strong of a woman she was to be here in the midst of criminals, had always mothered him in his earlier years when Alfred took his small charge on trips to visit her. "How did...I get...here?"

"You brought yourself, to my very back door."

"The clinic," Bruce opened his eyes. "I'm at...your clinic."

Leslie nodded. "I don't know how you made it, because I know where you came from, dripping wet and still in your suit, although you'd lost your cape and cowl-"

A sound of dismay slipped from the back of his throat.

Leslie cocked an eye. "Really, Bruce Wayne. I put two and two together whenever Alfred told me of your exploits spelunking, water-polo, or whatever else you two concocted to hide the truth about your injuries. Yes, I know. But, thankfully, I am the only one in the clinic that knows."

She paused, observing him with a caution-filled tenderness. Bruce mentally fidgeted, as the feeling arose that he was about to be scolded. "But Alfred doesn't know you're here."

"He doesn't?" Taken aback, Bruce asked slowly, "How long...have I've been here?"

"Four days, Bruce," she said softly. "I'm not altogether thrilled with keeping the truth from Alfred, Bruce, but it was the first thing you said to me- _Don't tell Alfred. I'm not ready. He's not either. Bruce Wayne has to be remain dead. Promise me, Leslie. Or I'll leave right now_."

Bruce stared at her, trying to solve his own riddle. He recalled having words with Alfred about Rachel and his life as Batman, but beyond that, he could not make an emotional connection between that and what he'd told Leslie. "So, you...you haven't told him that I am here. I must have a good reason...for asking for your silence. I admit, though...I'm surprised you listened to me."

"You were very serious about leaving if I didn't promise. I don't go back on my promises, Bruce, even if I don't agree with a patient's personal wishes. Besides, you had just saved the city of Gotham from becoming a nuclear wasteland by flying the bomb out over the bay, thereby killing Batman. I thought it was the least I could do."

"I flew it...killing...what?" He groaned and closed his hands, tightly fisting the sheets. "I remember the bomb...being a threat, and Bane...Is he still in Gotham?"

"He's dead, and his men no longer have power over the city."

"Dead," Bruce murmured. "How?"

"Shot, but I don't know by whom." Leslie squeezed his hand. "Maybe I should get you a newspaper. And a mirror."

"A mirror? What for?"

Her eyes drifted over his face pointedly. "So you can see your new disguise."

Cautiously, he lifted a hand and felt a goatee not unlike the one he'd worn as a recluse. "This isn't...so bad. Where did you...did you find the disguise?"

"I was involved in theater back in the day," she said. "It's when I met Alfred. Had a few things on hand and came up with the rest to make sure no one recognizes you as the clean cut, handsome billionaire. Your goatee and ponytail..."

_Ponytail?_ His eyes widened.

"...are a very dark brown- almost black."

"I like black."

Leslie gave him a small smile. "You must listen to your body, Bruce. You can't go back to what you were doing. It is possible your memory will return with work, but I can't promise that you'll be as lucky the next time. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"It's time for me to retire- this time for good." The words felt right. It didn't distress him to say those words, or pain him to believe that he'd follow through.

"Yes." She sat down in the chair beside him, leaning forward with a somber expression. "Bruce, your body has been broken more times than I thought a person could be broken and yet, survive, let alone walk. While you recuperate, I promise you refuge here as long as you need it."

"I trust you." He did, but he also had no choice. He had no where else to turn to without sorely inconveniencing someone.

"I know you do, and I hope you trust me when we talk more about a recent, serious back injury of yours?"

"It healed." It wasn't so much a defensive reply as the truth.

"If that's what you call it," she countered. "But let's not talk about that now."

"Thank...you."

"You're welcome, Bruce. About Alfred..." As Leslie's voice trailed off, Bruce realized she was inferring something, but the epiphany never came. His memory failed him and he was unable to draw a single conclusion as to why he wanted himself dead to the world. "I hope you remember what you forgot. Soon. I don't think we need to talk anymore now."

He nodded lightly, the weight of his situation exhausting. Leslie's footsteps had all but diminished from the room when his memory relinquished the image of a woman, alluring eyes wide and tempting.

"Selina." He desperately needed Selina. Why, he couldn't remember, but it was as if she were part of his plan, even though he didn't remember having a plan in the first place.

"Selina?" Leslie's footsteps came nearer, and Bruce heard her breathing, hovering over him again.

_Selina_. Bruce had lost her, but he never had her to begin with. If he was here, and it was...

"How long...have I...?" He mumbled, eyes fluttering open.

"Four days, Bruce." Her smile sad, he quickly caught on that she'd told him that before. "You've been here four days."

_Four days_. He'd come back to Gotham...and he remembered now that he intending to ask her for her help, but he still couldn't remember his plan. Had she agreed? She wouldn't stick around, that much Bruce remembered about her. That...and her seductive beauty. She'd forced him from that first pit he'd been in, the wretched one of self-pity he wallowed in for eight years, by stealing the only possession on this earth that meant anything to him.

Why did it hurt so much that the thief was gone? He tried to muffle his groan of frustration, but it emitted from his throat as a low growl. "_Selina_."

"Bruce, do you mean Selina Kyle? Was she the woman who helped Batman procure the bomb? The masked woman?"

_She'd stayed?_

"I...I don't know..but...she knows who...I am...

"Bruce, I know where to find her," Leslie said breathlessly. "She could possibly help you sort through your memories of what happened."

"I believed there..was more to her...but..." Bruce slowly exhaled, unsure if he should bring Miss Kyle into his mess. "Be careful, Leslie. She may...not be a friend."

"I'll be careful, Bruce, but if you're willing, I'll bring her here." Leslie squeezed his shoulder.

"Yes." It was a risk, but no other answer would do.

"You're certain?"

"But...don't force her to stay. And..and if she decides to leave, I'll be fine...I wouldn't want to clip her wings."

He paused, reveling in a vibrant memory of holding her in his arms, dancing with the woman who charmed him with her natural elegance and confidence. It was the magnificent image he had of her before the betrayal damning him to a downfall.

"You know her well, Bruce." Leslie said softly.

_Know her?_ He'd only spent five months in a desolate pit, imagining he'd been right about her all along only to come to this point where, ironically, he couldn't begin to know her the way he wanted - with a chance that he never, ever would.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Dear reviewers- thank you so, so much! Those reviews make my day! Pardon the length of this chapter. I adjusted the pacing, and I promise...subsequent chapters won't be so long. I've taken a great deal of time thinking through this fic, trying to get it just right because the subject matter is tough. I am no doctor, but I've researched and tried my best. I've completed the first part to this story- about 15 chapters. Besides romance and action, which will be in this story, I'm a fan of angst. So, you may have to forgive me for what I put poor Bruce through after all he's experienced already. The second arc will bring some sweet relief, but some different challenges. The third? I'll save any clues about that for later. There's purpose to every little thing, including the characters (canon and OC) soon to come alongside Bruce and Selina in upcoming chapters. Thank you for taking the time to read, and if you drop me a note, thank you for that, too!

* * *

As she had years ago, Selina slipped through the locked back door of the clinic unnoticed. It proved easier to do than she remembered but it was far less comforting, as scents of the clinic wafted her way and reminded her that she truly had no business being here. Selina closed the door behind her with more force than was required, and after a short walk down the hallway, made her way through the steady stream of people who could not possibly all fit into Dr. Thompkins' clinic.

Finding herself flattened against a wall, she paused to observe the waiting room literally bursting at the seams. Besides the handful of those in medical uniform, conversing with the people, a dozen families crowded together and other individuals stood wherever space was available. However, it was the number of children that clouded Selina's desire to go back on her word to Leslie. It was not the usual crowd Selina recalled coming to the clinic for help, but it made sense as to why Leslie needed her. She'd moved beyond assisting only criminals, that much was clear.

Selina's hair rose the way it did when she inexplicably knew she was being watched. As she panned the room again, one particular child, a long-haired pixie of a girl, looked straight at Selina with curious, green eyes from her place on a woman's lap. Smudges of dirt trailed along the child's face and her hair revealed multiple tangles. A faded pink sweater and tattered pair of pants stretched tautly over her thin limbs, coming a bit short of covering her pale skin. Her legs dangled over her mother's lap, revealing unlaced tennis shoes and sock-less feet on a bitter cold evening. The little girl's appearance couldn't have been more distressing. Selina resisted the urge to demand answers from the woman who held the child. The woman looked no better, especially with fresh bruises along her cheeks.

Selina backed away from sight before anymore of her heartstrings were pulled. Leslie had asked for her help, but she wasn't a babysitter or the nurturing type, even if there were other children with the same ragged appearance. She returned to the unlit part of the clinic and opened the door with the sign, Employees Only. She locked the door behind her.

Although Leslie may have stretched the truth when she said Selina could manage almost anything she'd ask her to do in the clinic, she did know CPR, basic first aid, and how to suture a simple wound. But it would be her ability to learn quickly which set her apart- and her skill to improvise. After changing out of her dress and heels into a casual outfit with boots, Selina twisted her hair into a bun and stuffed her bag and clothing in an empty locker. Within five minutes, she'd located Leslie, smoothly coming alongside her before the doctor took notice.

"Selina. You came." The doctor's appreciative, warm glance irked Selina, and the once dull ache pressed against her chest.

"I told you I would," she said, a hint of snark bleeding through her veiled sadness.

"Walk with me," Leslie inclined her head towards the hallway. She followed to the patient's door. "After I check on this patient, we'll go to my office to talk privately."

Selina waited, watching the woman speak to her patient as if he were the only one in the clinic needing her assistance. Leslie gave her full attention as she addressed and treated the man's injury, never once losing her cool as the man explained how he received his injuries- fighting a neighbor a week ago for a bag of the neighbor's own food rations.

"Times were hard, but I think an apology is in order, at the very least."

Selina smirked. Leslie hadn't changed a thing about her approach.

"I'm the one who got hurt," the man grumbled.

"You waited an awfully long time to get help." Leslie said pointedly.

"This city has been a center of chaos! I couldn't leave my kids in the middle of this mess, and I wasn't about to go in the streets with them, either, and risk getting mugged or killed."

"It's been difficult," Leslie said softly, finishing up. "I understand, but I'm glad you made it here to see me today. If you'd waited any longer, I'm not sure how bad the infection might have been. Please be sure to complete the fourteen days of antibiotics. A nurse will be by in a minute to give you home care instructions for your injury."

As Leslie turned to leave, a nurse rushed up to her, expression urgent. Assuming Leslie would remain occupied for some time, Selina made her way to Leslie's office on her own. She slipped into the office and into a chair, waiting on tenterhooks. Nothing about Selina's decision to remain in Gotham made sense, at least it didn't until she added Bruce into the equation.

_I visited your grave. What more do you want from me?_

Selina crossed her legs, battling the indecision and the unrealistic emotions tumultuously upsetting her life when the door opened.

"It's good to see you, dear," Leslie smiled as she took a seat at her desk, but her perusal of Selina teemed of caution.

Selina didn't blame her. Selina had become so much more than the last time she'd visited the clinic. Most of it dangerous and only a small part worth sharing. The most recent, however, was as fragile as she'd ever been.

"It's been awhile. Yet, you called me, out of the blue. Why now?"

"Like I told you on the phone, I think you could help me with a specific patient. It requires someone with, shall we say, persistence and patience?"

"And you thought I'd just come to your aid?"

"I don't know what I thought except that I need your help."

"You want me?" Selina huffed.

Leslie nodded. "I do."

"This is crazy," Selina hissed. "There are too many people here, too many problems. You've reached your capacity."

"We're beyond it. They just keep pouring in, Selina."

"Where are they coming from?"

"Their homes. People who've been too afraid to step out and have remained in their homes with illness and injury the past five months. Or, the tunnels." Leslie shook her head. "Bane's defeat brought out the ones who sacrificed their lives to their own curiosity. Boys, Selina. Mere boys. I have grieving and worried families weeping on my shoulders, a few even from the police force. The hospitals can't hold them all and the emergency aid just isn't enough. The people of Gotham...they don't want to leave. Not now, not after their hero returned and saved them."

Selina cocked an eye, feeling snide at the mention of Batman. Would he never leave her alone? "They're criminals, Leslie, or at least a little on the wrong side of the law."

"These days, they're not all criminals." Leslie shrugged, a slight gleam in her eyes. "You know me. I get attached."

"You always were a softie."

"Until emergency medical relief operates a bit smoother in Gotham, I'm all these people have. They know this clinic has a reputation for housing criminals, but they've come to me. I've handed you a challenge, Selina, and I've never taken you as one who backs away from one. Will you help me?"

Selina pursed her lips, refusing to answer immediately. Leslie was pushing her well beyond her limits. Was she foolish to think anything she did would make up for her betrayal?

"Are you saying the patient is too difficult?"

"Oh, nothing like that. He has suffered a traumatic brain injury and his short term memory has suffered. I created a series of questions to ask him as therapy. Here is a detailed list." Leslie handed her a paper. Selina scanned it, noting his injury was worse than she'd first thought. "I also set out three objects for him to study and then I take them away. Five minutes later I ask him to tell me what those objects were."

"Is it that bad?"

"Yes," Leslie sighed. "I also quiz him about the news, so here..."

Leslie grabbed a newspaper wedged in between the clipboards. She handed it to Selina.

"This is today's. He reads when he can keep his eyes open and doesn't have a migraine. A few other things. It's very painful for him to walk due to previous knee injuries that have been aggravated as well as a recent stab wound to his side. Until his knee braces arrive or he agrees to surgery, he should be fine with a walker to get around his room or a cane along with our assistance. Now that the catheters have been-"

Selina's eyebrows shot up.

Leslie chuckled. "Yes. You won't have to worry about those, only his IV antibiotics and an antidote for the poison."

"Poison? Where did you find this guy, Leslie?"

"I've known him long enough to know he won't be a danger to you, if that's what you're worried about," Leslie said dryly.

Selina rolled her eyes. "Go on."

"When you help him into a chair, be mindful of his injury. It's fresh and tender, but it would be good for him to have some time out of that bed."

"Sounds like a man I could handle." Selina purred, appreciating the task Leslie gave her. Something challenging and no doubt entertaining.

"Be easy on him, Selina," Leslie reprimanded. "He needs a dosage of tough love. I think you're the woman for the job, if you listen to my instructions. I'm certain you could push the right buttons."

"Are you saying I'm heartless and manipulative?" Selina arched an eyebrow.

"I'm saying you are special, and that's what it might take for him improve. The nurse who has been helping him, Beth, will have his tray of food and medicine ready for you to take to him. He refused to take the medication earlier today and suffered quietly. Worse, he couldn't answer any of the questions because of his discomfort, but I have to push him. He needs this therapy. Selina, I'm pulled in too many directions to spend all of my time here with him, as much as I want to. I think you could help him."

"Leslie..." If she committed, what was she getting herself into, exactly?

"His brooding scared away the rest of my help."

"Honestly?" Selina asked, exasperated. "I'm the last resort?"

"No, not at all. It's just...you're Selina." Leslie lifted her chin. "If anyone can get him to listen, it would be you."

"Why?"

Leslie sighed and clasped her hands on her desk. "You were there with Batman, fighting Bane, weren't you."

It wasn't a question. Selina narrowed her eyes. "Are you insane? How could that even be possible?"

"I've known you since you were a little girl. The past several days they've shown amateur footage, Selina. That was you racing down the streets, helping him."

"What does any of this have to do with your patient?"

"You've changed."

"Not much."

"Something's different about you." Leslie paused, peering at her curiously.

"I went to a funeral."

"A funeral?"

"I paid my respects." Selina wondered why her mouth would not stop. When had she ever felt the need to explain herself?

"I see." Leslie pushed her chair out from her desk and stood. "I think it's time you meet my patient, Thomas."

* * *

"I swear, that man has no sense of humor, and he only mumbles," explained Beth, the petite, blonde haired- and very flighty- nurse who all but abandoned Leslie's patient. Beth handed her a tray with of food, two medicine tablets, and water. "He's in the secluded wing of the clinic. Room 113, a dark, creepy room. Dr. Thompkins instructed me to leave the lights off as much as possible, especially when I leave. She says it is because of his tendency for migraines, but I think its more that his disposition is the reason he's in that area all by himself."

"Sounds charming."

Beth rolled her eyes. "You may do just fine, Miss..."

"Call me Cat. Short for Catherine."

"Cat, then. I think Thomas would be handsome if he was a bit more agreeable. And maybe lost some of the hair." Beth shrugged, her pert nose wrinkling. "I'm glad I don't have to try to get him to eat anymore, but I do feel badly for the fact he can't remember where he is or what happened to him. Dr. Thompkins managed to get him to eat a few bites this afternoon, but it may be because she spends so much time with him. She forgets there are other patients. It's a good thing you're here to help. Oh, and he did have a slight fever when I checked on him less than five minutes ago, so he may be more disagreeable than normal until the meds kick in. He terrifies me. Good luck."

She flashed Selina an overly bright smile and turned on her heel.

"Thanks for the pep talk," Selina muttered.

She tucked the newspaper Leslie had given her partially under the plate but instead of hefting the tray in her hands, she paused. Why had she come? Her, a thief, shifty at best, the betrayer of Batman at worst? She stole excuses and time, fitting her needs within the those of others, including Dr. Leslie Thompkins. Helping at the clinic was her excuse to stay in Gotham where she could feel close to Bruce and lick her wounds. Yet, she had neither the compassion of a Girl Scout nor the desire to be an errand girl, but here she was, Gotham still turned upside down as it regained its footing and her own life off-balance more than she liked.

Shaking her head and cursing the day she laid her eyes on _who knew he could wield a bow and arrow so well Bruce Wayne_, Selina took the tray in her hands and walked towards the clinic's secluded wing.

Tonight would be the only night she'd help out at the clinic. She wasn't going to destroy herself by clinging to a dead guy. By the next day, she'd be far removed from all of reminders and any distractions getting in the way of forging a new life for herself. She'd do what she'd wanted to do in the first place- leave Gotham, and everyone in it, in the dust.

She knocked on Room 113 out of faked politeness. When the patient said nothing, she turned the knob and entered, hardly glancing at the man huddled under his blanket. An arm stretched over his face, newspaper crumpled in his hand. His breath rose and fell evenly, indicating he'd fallen asleep in the short time since Beth checked on him. The long ponytail covering his shoulder hung limply, looking like it hadn't been washed for days. She rued silently that the man probably needed a shower, and refused to cooperate with that, too. The shadows gave away nothing of his features, except part of his face covered with a goatee.

"Hello, I'm Catherine. You can call me Cat for short," she chirped, knowing if he was as irritable as Beth said he was, being overly friendly yet assertive may push him to listen to get her out of his hair.

She set the tray down on the counter away from him, giving him time to collect himself. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the man's knuckles whiten as he gripped the paper. His shallow breath reminded her that he was in pain, from his own pig-headed refusal to take the medication his doctor offered. Still, it was her duty now to help him. The wrapper came easily off of the straw and she plopped the straw into the cup of water. She tucked the newspaper under her arm and picked up the tray- all efficiently, all very insignificant things. Shouldn't she want to help someone like this for once in her life?

She unclenched her teeth and turned, ready to set the tray on the man's table beside him with whatever grace she could muster. "It's time for your dinner and medicine, and I'm not like those other girls so don't play games with me. Then we'll work on that memory of yours, Mister-"

"That's a brazen name, for a cat burglar."

The dead man's lazy voice shook her violently, tossing her heart like a storm hurls mighty waves. She lifted her gaze to the fever-bright, hazel eyes of the man who'd stolen more from her than she'd stolen from him, as her heart surely wasn't the way it once was, and then she knew. It wasn't an languishing echo of what had been. It wasn't her imagination crouching and waiting for the right moment to attack.

Bruce Wayne was alive, and she'd just dropped his tray.

"Did you just drop my food?" Bruce Wayne, the not-dead variety, raised his eyebrows. He had the gall to to look amusedly at the floor and the complete, embarrassing mess she made in her shock.

"You weren't going to eat it anyways, so I hear," Selina found herself saying, if for nothing else but to prevent herself from raging.

Bruce shrugged. "I'm sort of hungry now."

"You're dead."

"I am very much aware of the fact that I am alive."

"No. You said there was no autopilot. You died." Selina stepped over the splattered meal, tension creeping fast into her shoulders. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"I told you there was no autopilot?" Bruce furrowed his brow. "Huh."

"You're joking. You don't remember that?"

"Add that to the list of things." Bruce waved an arm over the post-it notes.

Selina picked up a few of the notes, scanning Leslie's handwritten reminders which listed everything from where he was, to his concussive injuries and stab wound, to recent events, including Batman's sacrificial act. Most importantly was the one informing "Thomas" he was experiencing short term memory loss.

"So you stayed in Gotham." His warm regard doused the fire within her. She couldn't get angry at him, not now, not yet.

"You don't remember much, do you?" The concern for him tasted bitter in her mouth.

He absently toyed with one of the remaining notes. "No, I guess not. How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't. Dr. Thomkins called me. She realized I was the one on the pod, helping Batman obtain the bomb." Surely, Leslie must know Bruce's secret, keeping watch over him diligently the past few days like she had.

"You helped me?" He didn't query in disbelief. It was with an interested, placid tone, cultured by his years of mask-wearing, she was sure of it. "That must explain this encrypted note."

He held it out to her, eyes hinting to fever and face flushed. She grasped the note, regretting her ridiculous slip of hand earlier. She'd have to request another tray with food, water, and medication right away. Bruce's overall, unwell appearance shook her to the core. Not only had he fought against flesh and bone, he'd fought against an expanse of water and a bomb. How had he survived? Not that what he was doing here and now could be described as surviving well.

"'A friend will be here soon to help you remember the past few days. She was there to help you before, on the day Batman saved Gotham.'" She murmured, reading the note aloud. "Dr. Thompkins knows about you?"

She asked for his sake, not hers.

"I would think so." He shrugged. "I shouldn't be surprised she figured it out, since I've known her since I was a boy."

"Leslie should've told me outright. She called me yesterday, right before I planned to lea-"

Selina pressed her lips tightly together, thinking how close she'd been to ignoring Leslie's call.

"Would you have come if she'd told you?"

Selina looked at him with as much honesty as she'd looked at anyone in a long time. "Yes."

Bruce's mouth curved into a slight smile. It was a bit of brilliance against the sunken look of his face and injuries of his body- and oh, how it made her want to see him fully golden, none of this shadowing him. But he was oblivious, and made light of the worse case scenario Selina never even thought of had Batman survived.

"That makes me...lucky."

"You've gotten yourself in quite the mess," she said hoarsely.

"I've been in worse."

"Not remembering that Batman saved Gotham from a bomb ranks pretty high in my book." It was cruel, but Selina had to know for herself. "But so does faking your own death flying out into the distance with a mushroom cloud, after telling Gordon- and me- that there was no auto-pilot. Oh, and there was that certain female board member who betrayed you."

"Right." His brow furrowed. "What?"

_He really doesn't remember._ Her heart twisted. In the past, she'd jump headfirst into taking advantage of the situation. But now, as he looked at her like she hung the moon, and she realized his recovery would be long-suffering, the opportunity faded.

"I will replace this food for you - and medicine." Selina laid his notes on his tray. She grabbed a blank note and pen and began to write. "Meanwhile, keep reading these. Here's a new one."

Bruce took the note, and began reading with a lyrical lightheartedness, not so much falling back on his playboy persona but it was a part of something else. Something else that Selina would stay to hear again.

"'Your new nurse, Cat, abandoned her job as a thief to help you regain your memory. Cooperate, or she may break out her claws.'" He looked up at her, amusement faint in his eyes and the strain of pain, poison, and fatigue a million times more prominent, batting at his almost-inhuman strength.

He didn't look like the Bruce Wayne the world knew. She could see the chiseled lines of his cheeks and jaw, if a bit gaunt. The hair, black and long, thick and yes, a bit greasy, didn't bother her. It served a purpose to protect him and she couldn't argue with that. His goatee reminded her of their first meeting, when she'd been cruel and stupid and selfish, and he scared the devil out of her. She'd never admitted that to herself, and now, it seemed just that she acknowledged that even broken, the man before her rose beyond it all.

She'd kicked his cane, and he'd followed her, not missing a single, dancing step.

She'd stolen his pearls, and he effortlessly reclaimed them, forgoing any charge and charming her right back into his life.

Unnerved by his boyish quips, she'd shamelessly used her feminine wiles to best him again, speeding away, but he paid no heed.

She'd handed him over to his likely death, and he'd come searching for her like she'd taken him on a picnic and shared her homemade pie with him, wine included, and not to some brutal betrayal. Broken back, no extra charge.

"Miss Kyle?"

There it was - the confusion. Out of necessity, she broke from her reverie and watched the hero of Gotham furrow his brow once again and succumb to the curse of too many beatings to the skull, too much scarring on the brain, and too much sacrificing of his body.

"Where are we? What-"

She quickly pressed two fingers on his lips. His lips moved under her fingers, just barely, as if he didn't know how to react to her quiet comforting. The eyes she'd dreamed about searched hers, and she mourned that all he could see was her consuming guilt and not what lay beneath the surface - a hope, even if unrealistic, that they could be more than what they were to each other.

"Shhh. Everything is okay, Bruce." Her words were lost on him. His breath quickened, the sweat along his brow gleamed. Another day and in another world, perhaps he could've had the fair end to a fight and a prize worthy of the persevering winner. Today, it could only be a bitter reward for someone who saved an entire city, for nothing about his hesitation as he took in his surroundings like he hadn't been sitting in this very room for five days was fair. She picked up his notes and pressed them into his hand, the one connected to antibiotics and poison-flushing fluids. His hands clutched hers for a tender, fleeting moment as she transferred the papers.

_So this is what it feels like to lose pieces of yourself to someone else, and never want them back._

"I thought...I remember that you closed the gate behind me, but you're here...why?"

"To make things right." she said. He watched her, the hope in his eyes raw and real and she could hardly stand to know that it was meant for her. "Read these. You'll catch up in no time. I'll be back to replace your dinner."

"Is that my food on the floor?" His expression quizzical, Bruce glanced down at the mess of food. "Miss Kyle?"

"Just a little spill," she shrugged and avoided his eyes. "Don't worry about it, handsome. And stay in your bed until I get back. Everything will be fine. Read those notes, okay?"

Selina left and turned the corner, hovering at Bruce's door so he wouldn't be alone. She saw him from the corner of her eye, reading those notes, his faintly bewildered expression heartbreaking. She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted a message to Leslie, telling her what they needed. She left him so he could privately catch up to his reality this time. She stayed at the door, just far enough to suppress the torrent of emotion barring its teeth and sinking its fangs in her of her stunted, fragile grief.

Then came guilt ridden, knife wielding strokes refusing to leave her alone- but she refused to let them come in their true form. She couldn't return to Bruce a mess, begging more questions when he had enough of his own. She'd wait until the replacement tray and meds were brought, giving them both more time. Selina braced herself against the wall, sinking down to the the floor and deeper into the pain that her choices had inflicted upon Bruce as well as her - the woman who would now do absolutely anything to change the past.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: To those who have reviewed, favorited, and followed - you truly are the best! It makes all the work I've put in worth it. It really does. I may have begun writing this for myself, to get the story I've been obsessing about finally out of my mind and on paper, but it makes a big difference knowing others have enjoyed it, too. After this chapter, things will pick up a bit! This is probably a tad slower Bruce/Selina build up than many are used to (and I guess that was the risk I took when I began writing this particular fic!), so I appreciate the thoughtful comments. This story premise has allowed me unique opportunities to develop their relationship - it's been exciting for me to write about them this way. And I do promise the build-up is very important to the story as a whole. In the process, I've "discovered" various sub-plots (to be introduced soon) that keep it moving. Hope you like what's next!

Thank you, a veritable iron rose, for helping beta this chapter!

I _am_ on the look out for another beta reader to assist with these chapter-by-chapter edits. If that's your cup of tea, drop me a note. I'd like to post a few more chapters before July 2, when I have to take a week's hiatus and I am not terribly certain what my Internet access (or free time, for that matter) will be like at that time. Thank you!

* * *

As strange as it was to see Miss Kyle and even stranger yet to see her depart in a whirlwind, as if she couldn't leave his side fast enough, Bruce calmly stared at the unknown in his hands. Everything will be fine, she'd said. He may be a fool for always trusting her, as the last time proved. Then again, through that very betrayal her life had been saved. His instincts told him to trust her. So did the feeling which coursed through him as she gave him his notes with such incredible care. She'd passed them to him gently, as if they were going to break him. Compassion had flickered in her eyes. As fleeting as it was, he'd seen the emotion and he knew how special it was coming from a woman like her.

Bruce read the notes a dozen times each. Sometimes silently, other times out loud to his empty room.

The one explaining that his _longtime employee has not been notified due to your wishe_s made his heart ache, but as he pieced together his thoughts, he again believed he could not ask Leslie to bring Alfred into this.

Bruce held on to the one Selina wrote like a kid clutching candy. She was here, and he had no idea why. She was here, and he had no idea why it thrilled him so much.

He knew he was causing people trouble, and it humbled him. He was a burden to Leslie, and now Selina, and he didn't want to be. He didn't want to be at the clinic, he didn't want to be a stranger to Alfred, but he was a stranger even to himself. He could never return like this.

Bruce ignored the footsteps entering the room and the person cleaning the mess off the floor. He had to remember. He grabbed the newspaper, tracing the headline with his fingertips. He'd saved Gotham, and didn't even know how he'd done any of it.

"Can you come up for air for a second, Mr. Wayne?"

He made a noncommittal grunt. The headline screamed in his head and over Selina's voice as she bothered him again.

"It's medication time. Let's put this away." Selina gripped the edge of the newspaper, the seductive arch of her eyebrows and piercing eyes a temptation he had to deny. He clutched the paper, unwilling to let go. "Bruce, it'll be here on your table, when we work to get your memory back with therapy."

"How did I get my knife wound?"

"Take these two pills and I'll tell you." She pulled the paper, but he held fast. "Let go."

"That's not fair."

"I don't play by the rules."

It was an honorable staring match, but when he realized he wasn't going to win, he relinquished the paper. Without a word but with altogether too much smug on her face, she handed him the pills and water. He sighed and did as he was told.

"How?"

"It's pretty big. You sure you can handle it? You're looking a bit worn around the edges right now."

"Miss Kyle..."

"If it is overwhelming, then I'll know better the next time you ask me and I won't tell you or maybe I'll make up something just for kicks."

"Very funny." He grabbed the notepad and pencil. "Write it down for me? I'll keep it close."

She did as she was told and when he read it, the knowledge wasn't only enlightening. It also took him a full minute to recover.

Selina sat quietly, eyes latched on to him like she actually _was_ his nurse.

"I told you this?" The migraine he saw coming a mile away slammed behind his eyes and forehead. Using one hand to knead the pain away, he closed his eyes, nothing coming to mind about the betrayal by the woman who'd used him just as much as he'd used her. He hadn't seen that coming at all. But it would explain why he hadn't given Miranda a single thought since he'd read the first notes.

He'd given almost all his thoughts to Selina Kyle.

"In so many words, in the little time we had before we worked together to get the bomb." Selina's hand pressed gently on his arm. "Bruce, your food is here."

"Not hungry."

"Not acceptable."

He ignored her. Who knew that Miss Kyle would be such a demanding nurse? _But, he had to remember. _

"Ra's al Ghul's daughter," he muttered, hoping that uttering it aloud would solidify it in his mind. "The child of Ra's al Ghul."

"Who is Ra's al Ghul?"

"Was."

"A dead man, then."

_Who stayed alive through some twisted legacy._

"He was my teacher - my mentor."

"You sure know how to pick them."

He snorted, resorting to squinting through the haze of discomfort behind his eyes. "He picked me...right out of the Bhutanese prison that was my home. I became his greatest student...in martial arts, theatricality, intimidation...so he said. He was the leader of the League of Shadows, a secret society...whose goal was to...purge the world of...corruption."

Selina Kyle stared at him, a cool mask slipping over her face to cover her surprise but not quickly enough to veil it from Bruce.

"Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, ex-prisoner?" Her elegant, smooth as silk voice washed over him. "Prized student of a veritable madman?"

He nodded vaguely, caught up in her alluring features. He opened his mouth to answer her and didn't realize Selina had put a spoonful of food onto his tongue until it was too late. He grimaced, but chewed in obedience.

"And you were a part of this society?"

He swallowed. "To fight...injustice," he said with a rasp, hoping that learning a little more about him would influence her to stay, or at least intrigue her enough to come back if- and when- she left. "Until I learned...that they intended...to destroy Gotham...and they almost did with a toxin."

Before he finished Selina deftly placed another bite in his mouth. "That was sneaky," he mumbled through his food.

"Maybe you prefer to feed yourself?" She held out the plate and fork. To appease her and his growling stomach, which earned him a smug look from Selina, he proceeded to feed himself. Half of the food remained on the plate, but by then he couldn't manage his pain or chewing any longer, or his nausea.

"No more," he hoarsely whispered.

"Mr. Wayne?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, helplessly succumbing to incessant pounding in his skull. The pain gripped, harder and harder, planting roots so deep, he thought for sure that he'd face this forever. He forced down a whimper, fighting against the impending suffering with all he had, but it was no use.

"Migraine?" Selina softly whispered and pressed the button to recline his bed.

He affirmed with silence, one hand on his head and the other twisting the covers. He heard the rustle of Selina beside him. His pillow was fluffed comfortably under his neck, and then after her hand brushed his hair away from his face, her hand covered his- and, as far as he remembered until the next time his brain reset, never moved.

* * *

Selina took action immediately, knowing Bruce was oblivious to his need for additional medication. She informed Leslie of Bruce's condition as soon as he'd fallen silent and then waited with bated breath. Bruce's agony heightened, reaching an level that Selina deemed unacceptable. With each second that went by, his fingers dug into his skull harder until she worried that they were going to tear into his own head. A shudder volleyed and shattered the stillness of his body. A moan slipped from his mouth, but it was the guttural, gagging of a person laying helplessly on his back which alerted her. Her reflexes quick, she grabbed the small open pan beside his bed, nestling it between her thigh and the bed so her hands were free to lift his neck, and then his head off his pillow. She'd only managed an inch before she wrenched one of her arms free to pull the can close. She turned his head in the nick of time. She stood there, appalled that it had come to this for him and sickened by her own ignorance.

Losing track of time was simple-his nausea was endless, and just when she thought the worst had passed, the dry heaves commenced. Leslie rushed through the door, taking in the situation and expression never changing as she directly adjusted Bruce's medication. She came beside Selina, taking over holding the pan. Selina slipped her other hand around Bruce, anchoring him further. It wasn't for another full minute before either woman saw a difference. A shudder shook Bruce's body a final time. He coughed, oblivious to the hands guiding his head back to the pillow and the cloth wiping the sweat and residue from his face.

Selina set down the cloth, feeling a stress far different from anything she'd ever experienced. She slumped in the chair beside him, finding Bruce's limp hand and curling her own around it.

Leslie went over his vitals quietly, not yet saying a single word to Selina, so focused was she on Bruce. Selina wondered why Leslie, who didn't trust her enough to tell her Bruce was here, suddenly allowed her the courtesy of a private visit, which now involved the immediate caring for him. Having had a taste of caring for Bruce, the desire to stay weaved through her thoughts with a strong, pulling thread. On one hand, she'd have to be pried away from his side with a crowbar, now that she'd witnessed the horrific results of her actions. On the other, how much more harm could she inflict upon him? How could she, a thief at heart, comfort anybody, let alone Bruce Wayne? Torn, Selina clutched Bruce's hand. She expelled a relaxed breath when the tension finally fell off Bruce's shoulders and his arm fell onto his lap. Bruce sighed, almost instantaneously falling asleep.

"Thank God," Selina said. A magnanimous weight lifted as the man could finally slumber without the further struggle of memory loss and physical pain.

"I gave him a sedative. He'll be out for most of the night," Leslie murmured. "This was a worse episode than the others."

"Has he thrown up like that?"

"Some, but nothing quite like that." The doctor pursed her lips.

"Isn't there anything else you can do for him?"

"I've run the tests that I can. We reduced the swelling in his brain the first few days. What is left, a more thorough examination of his brain and what can be done to help him, cannot be done here."

"And his memory?"

"I am expecting for it to improve weekly, but it may take months. I'd like him to see a trauma specialist."

"Where?"

"Preferably one who can come to here for the initial consultation, but I haven't found one willing to come to Gotham yet and I can't risk taking Bruce to the other hospitals and his identity being discovered."

"And if you can't find one who would come here?"

"He'll have to travel."

"That'd be close to impossible."

"It won't be easy, you're right. And with that he refuses to tell Alfred, it makes the situation even more precarious. I have no one to take my place at the clinic during an extended absence."

Selina's mind reeled. Even to her, the thought of keeping poor, grieving butler in the dark seemed cruel. "Why won't he let his butler know what happened?"

"My guess is that Bruce doesn't want Alfred to feel guilty for what happened to him. They had words and Alfred left before Bane took control of the city."

"So, then you called me." Selina mused. "For all you knew, I'd use him and walk away."

"The day I first tried to get a hold of you, he'd awakened for the third time and said your name. He said it with...passion and urgency. I don't know how else to explain it.

"So you went on the word of a man whose memory is stunted?" She baited Leslie with her sarcasm but the doctor pushed it aside.

"No, not exactly. Earlier that morning, I figured out that it was you who'd helped him, and...and I took a chance because I think you'll be able to help him piece together what happened and the would maybe prod his memory." Leslie breathed deeply. "I'll be honest, Selina. I didn't trust you at first when I talked with you in my office, and I wasn't about to let you see him alone the first time for fear you would use this to your advantage. Then, you mentioned a funeral. Call it intuition, if you will, and the way you wore your emotions on your sleeve enough for me to see."

"How do you know I won't use him now?"

"We're having this conversation, aren't we? I think it's more likely that either you would have hightailed it out of here the instant you saw him or remain here with him and see the job through. Now that I've watched you helping him, I see my instincts were correct."

"And what did they tell you?" Selina challenged her.

"That you care for him." The simplicity of the statement struck Selina at the heart. Leslie was right. As much as Selina wanted to toss the feeling aside in fear, she did, indeed, care for Bruce Wayne. "If you were going to hurt him, you wouldn't be holding his hand like you are now."

"It doesn't mean I'm not going to hurt him eventually." Selina snapped, more out of frustration that she could do nothing to help Bruce but hold his hand.

"I'll chance that, because I'd do anything for him if it meant he'd regain his memory, Selina. Besides, he agreed for me to bring you here- over Alfred."

"But each time he wakes up and sees me, he's forgotten. He forgets he's hurt, he forgets he is here...he can't even remember-" Selina broke away from Bruce's touch.

"What can't he remember?" Leslie asked gently.

Leslie had been nothing short of a mother to Selina when she was a child, abused and practically abandoned. She'd been kind, gracious, giving- but having seen all of those attributes once again didn't make it any easier for Selina to open up about her feelings.

"Nothing," she turned a cold shoulder to Leslie and crossed her arms, looking out the window.

"Are you going to stay, then?"

"You've already decided for me," she snorted. Her nails dug into her skin, much like Bruce Wayne had burrowed his way into her heart. "Throwing me into all of this like you did."

"You may not have come had I told you from the beginning, and I couldn't take that chance."

Leslie's voice hardened. "You tell me now, Selina, so I can to find someone else. I don't have time to waste. Bruce doesn't. Brain injuries are nothing to mess with. I can't do this by myself, and I know Bruce wouldn't want me to abandon the people of Gotham to take care of him, not after all he's done."

The doctor made a well-played point, but Selina lifted her chin. "If he wants to work through this alone, send him to a hospital far away until you can help him."

"Maybe I was wrong about you, but I still think there's more to-"

"Stop." Selina said, teeth clenched. "Please, don't say anymore."

"Selina-"

"You don't understand!"

"I do understand. You forget I've been around people much like you for four decades, people who've fought to stay alive, so they put their emotions on a short leash or pretend they don't have any. You're scared. You want to stay - you care deeply for him, but are afraid of the consequences."

"I shouldn't have come."

"But you did. And, deep down, you must know why."

"He's too vulnerable for me, too easy for me to hurt."

"His condition has made him vulnerable, yes, but Bruce is strong. Each time that I break it to him that he's stuck here with me, it rolls off his shoulders. He is taking it in stride, Selina."

"I've had to remind him already."

Leslie looked at her in surprise. "How did he do?"

"Like you said. He accepted it and does the best he can to fit the broken pieces back together."

"He can do this, Selina." Leslie nodded.

"He can, maybe. But, me? I don't know how to...how I ..."

"How you can continue to explain to the man, who saved all of Gotham, at least twice with his theatrics, skills, body, and mind, that he forgets every twenty minutes or so where he is? That he forgets he came to my clinic, wet as a dog from swimming in the bay to escape the bomb? That he was stabbed? That Bane is dead? That he is, virtually, dead to the world by his own wishes?"

Selina took a hesitant step towards Bruce, wondering if Leslie would allow her to come so near to her patient if she knew what Selina's actions had cost Bruce. Bane's brutal blows that night she'd betrayed him could have very well set Bruce up for his current, humbling condition.

"Yes," she said with an edge to her voice. "I don't know how I can watch him realize his mind is in pieces over and over again. I don't know if I can watch him suffer like this."

_And know that it is all my fault._


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Well, the next pair of chapters didn't want to be split up. I've never had a story fight me for more words in a chapter like this one. Hopefully, you all won't mind. ;-) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I love reading your thoughts and speculation.

* * *

There was a first time for everything, but Selina never thought making empty threats would end up on her short-list of firsts.

She could not leave.

She stayed because she knew without a shadow of doubt that turning her back on Bruce would curse him to months- not weeks- of recovery without the opportunity to piece together what had happened to him. And it would be her fault - again.

She stretched, turning in the cot Leslie provided for her after she'd unwillingly removed herself from Bruce's side close to midnight. Leslie first offered her the couch in her apartment, but Selina declined and opted to use the old, vacated janitorial's closet next to the lounge. The cot wasn't much, and neither was the tiny room, but she was too exhausted after her short visits with Bruce and too worried that he'd need her if she returned to her own apartment or to Leslie's. Really, she didn't even have her apartment anymore after today, but that wouldn't have stopped her from using it until the new occupants arrived.

Morning came quickly. Selina rolled off the cot and checked her phone for the time. Six in the morning was not soon enough. She was anxious to see Bruce, but she'd fallen to the cot exhausted, without changing clothes. She could not approach the man, who hadn't failed to impress her with his incredible good looks even as a humble patient, looking like this. She took twenty minutes to shower, dress, and run a comb through her hair, and then walked into the lounge.

"Good morning," Leslie said brightly, pouring a cup of coffee for herself, and then one for Selina. They were alone, and Selina relaxed with the liquid warmth nestled in her hands.

"You're very chipper," Selina commented.

"I'm happy you're here. I've been thinking all night something was different with him, despite his difficult night. Even though he didn't remember you were here, I noticed a change."

"You were up all night?"

"It's normal for me," Leslie shrugged. "Speaking of which, I will take the late night shifts with him like I have been, Selina, if you can be with him through the day, and mid-evening. Prepare yourself. It won't be easy."

"I suppose you no longer need to sleep?" Selina sipped her coffee.

"I'm used to this, Selina. You're not."

"That's fine," she agreed quietly. "I do have to get my things from my apartment sometime today."

"Let me know before you leave. He awoke a little too early this morning, distracted and not quite as lucid as he was with you earlier. It was harder for him to get out of bed and harder for him to fall asleep again. I think...subconsciously the distraction was you. Which is a good thing." Leslie set down her cup and shrugged on her white jacket. "I am working diligently to have him on a schedule as much as possible, which includes a full night's rest. This is mentally draining for him, even if he doesn't remember all the work he puts in. Today, we'll begin with puzzles. Every little bit will help."

"But...what?" Selina read into Leslie's meaningful pause.

"If he doesn't improve after a few weeks, then we'll need to think of an alternate plan. Living here indefinitely is not the best choice for him, but until he agrees to tell some others, mainly Alfred, that he is alive, I can only help him from here. My hands are tied." Leslie expelled a breath. "Selina, I reminded him that you were here. He looked at me like I told him Santa Claus was real, and then he smiled."

Leslie cocked her head and folded her arms, staring at Selina in mock accusation.

"Do you know that I haven't seen him crack a smile in the past three days, since he first awoke?"

How surreal it was to discuss Bruce Wayne like they were together, like she was the one who was going to be the answer to his prayers. They weren't together, and she wasn't sure she was going to be the answer to any of his problems. An old, familiar feeling settled distastefully in her stomach. The flight, the desperation to be free from all things that got in her way.

Leslie smiled at her and shook her head. "Your silence about the matter is telling."

Selina opened her mouth to deny what the doctor insinuated but Leslie rushed ahead.

"I'll ask Beth to keep an eye on him when you leave."

"He is awfully difficult on her," Selina remembered. "She told me she's terrified of him. And what about his notes? You're sure that is wise?"

"You wrote discretely enough. The folder says 'For Thomas' Eyes Only.' Beth volunteered to watch him after she talked with you. She is my most capable nurse, even if she's a bit flighty. I actually think she has a crush on him, as much as she complains." Leslie smirked as she exited the lounge, leaving Selina wondering how she was going to make sure Nurse Beth left her pretty little fingers off of Bruce.

"Terrified, my ass," Selina muttered, cross with herself that the nurse had slipped one past her.

* * *

A folder lay in front of him that he was obviously supposed to open, but Bruce had no desire to do so.

_Thomas_.

His father's name.

Someone clearly chose it to serve a purpose- recognition. Although he was curious, he held back, reluctant to peel back the cover of the folder and see its contents. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was scared of what he'd find. He didn't know why he was here, let alone how he got here. The contents of the folder were bound to explain something, but Bruce didn't want to find out that way.

He read the name on the cover again, and winced from the memory of the father he so loved, then winced again as his side burned with some injury he did not remember. He bit back a groan as he heaved himself up to a sitting position. He was not a stranger to laborious wounds nor to the pain that took his breath away, but in the process of maneuvering himself on his bed, his arm slipped. He blamed it in the general run-down feeling he had, as if he'd been hit by the Bat, or hit water fast and hard. His arm bumped into the table and the folder fell on to his lap, a newspaper clipping sticking out from the corner. Bruce pulled at it gingerly, swallowing the lump in his throat. The headline took his breath away.

_Batman Dies A Hero_

The image of the Bat flying over the bay stunned him. He'd clearly saved Gotham from the bomb, but what...what happened to him?

Bruce flipped the covers off his body with a flick of his wrist, finding that a thick bandage wrapped around his waist. Bruises covered his left knee, reminiscent of the years ago when he'd fallen from the building after saving Gordon's young son. Next, he rid himself of the catheters in his hand. Whatever had happened to him, he was not going to wait.

He was going to find his own answers.

He felt old, discarded...and something was missing, or maybe someone. He'd left the pit. He was on his way to Gotham. Maybe this was Gotham. But...he...

Someone was supposed to be here with him. If this were Gotham, there was only one way to find out.

He pulled up his aching knees, and slowly moved his legs to hang on the side of the bed. The room reeled as he sat up, and he hesitated, merely placing his bare feet on the floor but never applying pressure. He frowned, only now realizing that he wore a hospital grade gown. It bunched up around his thighs and allowed a draft along his back. Worse yet, his clothes were nowhere in sight.

"What are you doing?"

His eyes jerked up to see Miss Selina Kyle, of all people, frowning at him from the doorway. Had he gone mad?

"Miss Kyle," he gritted, clutching the edge of the bed and determining he would look out the window, to no matter the fact that _she_ materialized out of nowhere. He stood up - and that was a mistake.

There was no where to go but down, but Selina caught him before he keeled over and hit the floor.

"What do you think you're doing?" The cry from her was unexpected, and even more the panicked concern on her face. "You can't get out of bed unless Leslie or I help you, Bruce."

"Leslie?"

Selina wrapped one arm around his back, her fingers touching skin. "Sit. Now."

"Why?" He frowned.

"For starters, you won't be able to take a single step without a walker or a cane and the help of someone because of your knees. Secondly, you've had a difficult night, so this is just pure carelessness on your part, Mr. Wayne. And you pulled the catheters out of your hand. Did you not read what was in that folder when you awoke?"

He thought quietly. He had no real good reason for not opening up that folder. "No. I wasn't in the mood."

"Seriously," she said under her breath. "This is not how you greet your daytime nurse, Mr. Wayne."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Yes, me."

"Can...can I at least sit in that chair?" He inclined his head to the wheelchair in the corner.

Her eyes widened a fraction. "It's what Leslie wanted you to do, but not by yourself. For now, sit on your bed and I'll bring it over."

"Dr. Thompkins?" Relief spread over him. It had to be Leslie.

"Yes," she said, focused on the painstaking task of setting him down on the bed. He heaved a breath, arm across his waist, unused to the utter weariness of his body. He glanced up, sensing Selina's wary gaze. "Mr Wayne..."

"Yes?"

"I..." The back of her hand pressed against her pursed lips, she blinked and perused him again, this time with such trepidation that he glanced down at himself.

"That's...well, some of that really isn't all that new, so don't worry."

"Don't worry?" She asked sharply, her disbelief palpable. "Is this from all of your activities, Mr. Wayne?"

"The scars, bruises, injuries?" He clenched his jaw, wishing he hadn't had the foolhardy idea of getting out of bed.

Unfortunately, his gown had slipped from his shoulder, revealing more of his chest and older scars. Those scars he'd always been able to hide from people with lesser curiosity or explain with great exaggeration a playboy's worthless activities, but Selina was too smart and had seen more of him than he'd like her to see. If Selina wasn't was so shocked by the state of his torso, she'd be well amused by his state of undress.

"From my habitual, nocturnal activities? Yes, but if you think this is bad, you should see the view without the gown," he deadpanned. "Now, can I get into that chair? I wanted to look out the window."

"You really should read what's in that folder," Selina chided, pulling the gown back on his shoulders and efficiently retying it at the back of his neck.

"Not yet." He tensed, pain spreading like wildfire from all the tender places of his body as she helped him into the chair. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, unable to conceal a shiver. He glanced at her in quiet thanks as she draped a small blanket over his lap. The chair moved before he could place his hands on the wheels. "I was going to do that myself, Miss Kyle."

"Is this where you wanted to be?" She ignored him, smoothly pushing the chair to the window he'd coveted from his bed. She flipped the blinds open, not waiting for him to answer. The street- it wasn't what he expected to see but it gave him a few answers.

_Near Crime Alley. Of course._ "We're at Leslie's clinic."

"Yes." She brought over his IVs, and to his chagrin, replaced them in his hand.

"How do you know how to do that?"

"I've been around," she shrugged. "Bruce, will you read those notes now? It's important."

He leaned forward, pressing his fingers along his forehead and feeling very much like it was something he was doing an awful lot lately.

"Can you fill in the holes for me? Why I'm here...and...how I got here in the first place?"

"You trust me to tell you the truth, after all I've done to you, rather than read the notes Leslie herself wrote?"

He dropped his hand and tilted his head back, gazing up at her, because even though he wanted to look out the window, he wanted nothing more than to assure her that he knew there was still more to her. For a moment, neither of them said nothing, both caught in the silence and mysterious that passed between them. Her brown eyes weren't the same as he'd remembered. They were deeper and softer, filled with a trace of vulnerability he would never think to exploit. Her hair, damp and curling slightly on the ends, fell well below her shoulder blades now, tempting him to reach for her and run his hands through her hair. Her mouth, full and tempting, tightened as she waited for him to answer.

"Yes."

"Alright." The delicately spoken word of agreement surprised him. She began to explain, at times standing with her hand on his shoulder. Other times pacing behind him as he gazed out the window or sitting on the window ledge with her legs stretched before her. He had a difficult time concentrating when she sat that way and swore she did it on purpose. Her eyes gleamed, akin to the gleam which reflected cruel, uncaring intentions when they first met and she kicked his cane out from under him.

But now, it had transformed. A hint of worry showed from behind her eyes, and a layer of playfulness, and then a seriousness he found deeply disconcerting. She finished her explanation. There she was in front of him on that window ledge, legs seductive, body taut, and expression hesitant as she waited for him to acknowledge that he'd heard all she said and understood.

"So," he said slowly. He had no choice do but accept and make the best of it all, and maybe even act a little light-heartedly to soften the blow for himself. "I guess I definitely qualify for shut-in status again."

She didn't laugh like he thought she would, but a flicker of hurt passed over her face.

"That's not funny." She crossed her arms.

"Well, you have to admit, it sort of is." He argued, then chuckled faintly.

"You are such an ass, Wayne. It's not funny."

He cocked an eye. "You're certainly not going to be taking me places. _Shut. In._"

"Stop it, Wayne." He began to feel a a fair amount of guilt when her expression then flooded with the kind of despair he was familiar with himself. "You're going to get better."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he frowned. His curiosity sated, he had an idea. "Will you hand me paper and a pen, please?"

She handed him his folder. He sighed. "Miss Kyle..."

"Don't Miss Kyle me," she retorted. "Open it."

He did, and was overwhelmed by the care Leslie- and now Selina- had taken with him. Besides sharing details of his misplaced memories, a documentation his daily activities was also included. Then he saw what was in the folder on the other side.

"Oh." With an even deeper sigh, he pulled out the pen and paper that was tucked in behind a pocket, glancing quickly up at Selina with a sheepish grin. He wrote, and once he finished, he capped his pen and handed Selina his own notes. "The first one is going on top of the folder."

"'Thomas, don't be a moron,'" she read. "'Open the folder and read what's inside before doing anything, including getting out of bed. Better yet, don't get out of bed until Cat or Leslie are here to help you.'" She looked up at him, clearly and helpful, as if it was a completely normal thing for him to write himself notes, and her to instruct him. "You forgot about Beth."

"Who?"

"Your other nurse." She pulled out the other note he wrote, a smirk on her face before she even began to read it aloud. " 'Don't be an ass. Do NOT make shut-in jokes. They upset Cat.'"

"I have to know what upsets you, or I'll never be a good patient." He sobered, realizing that only these notes would connect him with Miss Kyle. Nothing else.

"That is very sweet." She murmured, his note holding fast her attention.

"Sweet," he mused aloud. Not far from falling into a deep, brooding spell, Bruce sighed. "I've never gotten that one before."

"Oh?" She looked coyly at him. "Would you prefer..."

He clenched his jaw. For both their sakes, he'd fight against joining with her in flirting. He wheeled his chair towards the bed in desperation.

"Mr. Wayne." Selina's voice hinted of her disproval as she pushed the IVs forward. "Did I say something wrong?"

He shook his head. He was an idiot, an idiot who shouldn't try to flirt with a woman - a dangerously, seductive one at that - when he couldn't even remember that she was here to help take care of him in the first place.

"I understand," she set the note down, becoming all business.

"No, you probably don't." Disgruntled that the small time in the wheelchair had left him so fatigued, he stared at his bed, just beyond reach. Too much was just beyond reach. His memory...life outside Gotham. The world spun, and he gripped the edge of his bed, foolishly wanting solace from this nightmare. And if that meant he'd obtain respite by sleeping, so be it. It was all he had.

"I do," she said quietly. Wordlessly, she helped him out of the chair and onto his bed. He was heaving breaths and soaked with perspiration by the time they were done. "This was more than you've done since you received your injuries. You're tired. It's okay to feel tired. We'll try again another time."

"I always push," he said, mostly to himself. "I need to push."

"Not anymore, you don't, not like that," she murmured, turning away. Too exhausted to think on her words, Bruce closed his eyes with a short breath. "I'll leave you to rest a few minutes. Then we'll work on therapy."

"It's pretty sad, isn't it?" He said before she got too far and he gained the sense to keep his mouth shut. "That I can't offer you the simple courtesy of even knowing that you're here, helping me? That I have to write down what I learn about you?"

"Don't think of it like that. This is not your fault. I won't take offense if you don't remember I'm here. I'm a big girl."

"You distract me," he murmured, feeling the wave of sleep not too far behind and not really knowing how that comment fit into their conversation. He didn't care if it didn't fit, either. She did distract him.

"I do, don't I?" she said serenly. He smiled to himself, knowing perfectly well the same memory flashed through her mind.

He'd take a kiss from her anytime, even if it meant losing another valet ticket.

"You distract me...Miss Kyle...your kiss. Your legs. Long, beautiful... and on that ledge... your... voice...eyes... and way you...distracting."

"You're not making much sense, handsome."

"Will you...forgive me?" His eyes fluttered open, searching for Selina. He couldn't find her. "Selina. Selina Kyle."

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." She appeared on the other side, face drawn in concern. She laid the back of her hand on his forehead. "You're burning up. No wonder you're talking crazy."

"Will you...forgive me?" He whispered.

"There's nothing I need to forgive you for." Her eyes searched his. "I'm calling your nurse."

"My nurse? Don't need one. Have you." Now uncooperative and heavy, his eyes shut with the promise of sleep looming in the distance. "I'm sorry...forget you're here...I'd never...do that before...not too...nice of me..."

"You do need a nurse, and like I told you before, you can't help this."

"Please." He needed to hear the words. "Miss Kyle."

Seconds before his breaths fell deep and even, she spoke the words to give him piece of mind for a short while. Her voice was far too strained, and he wondered at that, but sleep came too fast for him to wonder for long. "I forgive you, Mr. Wayne."

* * *

When pinks and reds brushed the sky later that day, Selina reluctantly decided she should leave to retrieve her belongings. The day had been eye-opening, partially heartbreaking, and altogether tiring. She'd called on Leslie for assistance more than she'd like to admit, with Beth popping in periodically to check on Bruce's medical needs.

Over and over, Selina explained to Bruce the situation in its entirety, save a few minor details, including that she was the one who shot Bane. She kept that close, for no good reason except it would provoke more questions. Each time, she warmed at the gentle knowing and contentment in Bruce's expression when he learned she stayed to help him.

As much as she felt her decision to stay was affirmed with his appreciative glances, each of those times were equally exhausting, with repeated explanations and therapy and the utter redundancy with no tangible recovery. The spacing was the same, about fifteen to twenty minutes of conversation before his mind reset or he fell asleep. His fever in the morning was attributed to the poison from his stab wound. Thankfully, the fever lasted but one hour, and there had been no migraine in sight.

"She'll be here any minute."

Bruce furrowed his brow. "The nurse. Right? What's her name?'

"Beth," Selina said drolly. "Spell it."

"Why?"

"To help you remember."

"B-E-T-H." Bruce stated brightly. "Beth."

"You look like an overgrown schoolboy when you do that."

He hadn't heard her, but had begun to work on his crossword puzzle like a model patient.

"Bruce." Still not hearing her, he penciled in an answer. Selina expelled a breath and laid a hand on his arm.

"Oh," Bruce set down his pencil. "The nurse. What does she look like, again? So I know if she comes in before I forget?"

"Perky."

"So, Nurse B-E-T-H is perky. Not much to go on there, Miss Kyle."

"I shouldn't leave."

"I'll be fine." Bruce shrugged.

"I can't abandon you."

"You're not abandoning me. You're here." His expression softened, revealing a Bruce Wayne she preferred to see - relaxed and happy. "And I am very grateful. Go. Really."

A knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," Bruce called out tiredly, an errant lock of hair falling forward, covering his schoolboy look. He whispered, "Cat. I'll be fine."

She frowned, distracted as Beth entered with a sway of her hips and smile that was far too sweet to be authentic. "Take your time, Cat. Thomas and I will be just fine."

The nurse pointedly turned her back, and began to take Bruce's blood pressure. Selina glared, shooting daggers at the back of Beth's head as her hands touched Bruce's hand and arm with elaborated care.

_This is foolishness_.

Bruce's mouth twitched up when he spotted her murderous glare towards the nurse. He coughed into his hand, hiding his grin.

_I'm so glad to have amused you, Mr. Wayne_. But then the tables were turned as Beth fluffed his pillow with a flourish. How ironic was his pained look when the nurse-the type Bruce Wayne-airhead-billionaire would've loved-stretched over him to adjust the other side. All to make her patient more comfortable, of course. Selina rolled her eyes. Beth's chest a hairsbreadth away from touching his was no accident.

_Go_, Bruce mouthed, eyes slightly widened in panic, as the nurse's attention was directed elsewhere. _Hurry_.

She took a hasty breath, gave an even hastier _see ya later _before she lost her nerve, and set out along the main corridor before she wasted anymore time. Halfway to the front entrance, Selina heard Leslie speak from within the makeshift children's ward- an old waiting room, sectioned with curtains, and housing several children who needed to stay the night. She paused to peak in when the details of the patient prodded her memory.

"Cora Maley is three years old," Leslie explained to a nurse beside her. "She came here last night with her mother. She is malnourished and dehydrated but she's improving. We're keeping her until she's as good as new, right Cora?"

The ever-watchful, little girl from the night before Cora somberly nodded, a pale figure lost in the expanse of white around her.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Thomkins." Cora's mother twisted her hands on her lap. "We...we had to give up our home when Bane's men came and couldn't find anywhere but under a bridge."

"No one is blaming you," Leslie comforted. "You did the only thing you could do, circumstances being what they were."

"Even my father's place was not spared. He's a board member for Wayne Enterprises. We still haven't found him."

Selina took the chair beside the woman, careful to meet her gaze, gently probing to gain information without losing her to hysterics. "Mrs. Maley, I may be able to help."

"This is Catherine Asher," Leslie introduced her. "She is helping me here at the clinic."

"What is your father's name, Mrs. Maley?"

"Call me Annette. Please. His name is Douglas Fredericks." The mother grabbed Selina's hand like it was her lifeline. "Please. He is a wonderful, giving man. He's the only family we have left. My husband is gone...and it's just me...and Cora..."

"Have you filed a report with the police? It would be the best place to start."

"Yes. It took us the whole day to get through the line." Annette peered anxiously at Selina. "But there are hundreds missing. It's just one more face to them."

"I have a friend who may be able to help." Selina ventured, in partial disbelief that her intentions to assist this woman included contacting Gordon. The name, Wayne, seemed a driving force for anything she did these days. Perhaps she shouldn't be terribly surprised about that. "I'll see if I can do something."

"Cat..." A warning glinted in Leslie's eyes.

"I can't make any promises, but I can perhaps make the search a little faster." Selina's connections ran deep, and she could think of several people who fell in the gray like she did who would require only a little twisting of the arm to help her. She was supposed to be gone, thanks to the clean slate. All of this certainly threatened her seamless escape, but so did showing her face at this very clinic.

"Thank you," Annette glanced over at her weary child. "Even if it were only that, it would give us hope."

"Angel," Cora whispered, voluminous blue eyes staring at Selina. "Mama, lady is bwootful angel."

Selina froze in horror at the innocent, harmless statement.

"Miss Asher is an angel - she's helping a patient out of the kindness of her heart." Leslie smiled. "We have many angels here, helping children just like you."

Selina silently thanked the doctor for diverting her attention. She swallowed and dared a closer look at the charmingly, sweet little girl. "_You_ are beautiful. And going to feel much better after Doctor Leslie takes care of you."

Cora nodded. "And you find papa?"

"I will try my best." Selina gave her the only promise she could. First Bruce, now this ragamuffin child and her mother. She'd place blame where blame was due. It was _his_ fault that she'd gone way too soft.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note_: I'm leaving in a few days for a trip that will probably not afford me much free time or the best Internet access. So, I'm pretty sure that I'll have to leave you with this chapter until my return around July 10 or so. I hope you're not too upset with me. Who knows- maybe I will be able to post before then but be prepared to wait. :)

A comment about Gordon before you read, because now is the chapter where things start being plotty and all that. I do understand that Gordon never wanted or cared to know who Batman really was. I think after Batman died, there was a possibility for him to wonder more about Bruce in his grief and sadness, and you'll see me explore that a little in this story. To me, Gordon looked incredibly depressed when they unveiled the Batman statue in City Hall at the end of TDKR. I will be working some of that in this story. Not trying to depart from characterization at all! Seeing that this is essentially _after_ he finds out the identity of Batman, I'm giving myself some leeway. :)

Thanks so much for commenting on these chapters. I really love reading your reviews! _Dinah_- thank you for pointing out Selina's eye color. I think I was going on some other fics I've read for her eye color (some do say green) but checked it out on an official site after you mentioned it. _LilyWolf_- I think I alluded in a previous author's note whether or not Bruce's predicament lasts. This first arc covers about a month's worth of time and definitely deals with his short term memory problem. You will just have to see whether or not it lasts longer. :)

* * *

Gordon sat at his table, lights out and computer open, muddling through his disbelief that Miss Selina Kyle, thief and kidnapper turned heroine of Gotham, requested to see him. She made it clear to Gordon the day that the Batman died that she was done with Gotham. He did not stop her from leaving, not after all she'd done to help them take care of the bomb. Not when she confessed she was the one who killed Bane before he killed Batman, and especially not since the Batman trusted her enough to enlist her help.

Gordon looked up her file a few days later out of curiosity and discovered nothing left of her identity. Selina Kyle disappeared, as she'd said she would. And now? Gordon didn't know what to think. Something big had to have kept her here.

Verily, this chapter of his life- and of Gotham- ended with the death of the Batman. It disturbed Gordon, for so much of his life the past decade intertwined with Bruce Wayne's, and he'd not even known. He was disturbed, not because he felt tricked, but because, after all these years, he finally wanted to know the true man behind the mask. He wanted to know and had been given the truth, but the truth itself was a yet another mask.

Grief did strange things to people, that much Gordon knew. Maybe it explained the odd and growing obsession to wanting to know the truth behind Bruce Wayne. At the cemetery, he'd spouted an off-handed reply to Blake which reflected nothing of the stirrings in his mind. It's why he chose to read what he did at Bruce Wayne's funeral. It's why he could not move on until he discovered first-hand something about the real hero under the mask. He had a feeling that Batman had _not_ been the mask - that job had belonged to Bruce Wayne.

Gordon pressed a computer key to begin another step in filling in the pieces.

_"Hello, Commissioner."_

Was he insane for watching this after all this time? Probably. Add in the fact that he had a copy on file - that was another story. The Joker was nothing he wished to revisit, but the truth was- the unraveled mystery of Batman now intrigued him, for it merely unmasked another mask. Gordon anxiously wanted to shed some light on how Wayne managed to juggle two facades.

_"Them?"_

How had he not seen the anger and desperation in Batman's words? Gordon slumped in his chair, reeling that the answer had been in front of him the entire time.

"Rachel," he whispered. Bruce Wayne's self-imposed exile, right at the time the Joker forced Wayne's longtime friend into a horrid, twisted game. Gordon was privy to the knowledge Bruce and Rachel were friends. He'd seen a tabloid at least. Now, as Joker's words echoed and Batman's reaction ran hauntingly through his mind, Gordon saw without a doubt that Bruce's feelings for Miss Dawes were more than merely friendship. They'd run deeper, giving cause for greater pain in the aftermath. "Dear God."

Batman dropped the Joker onto the interrogation room floor in his haste and desperation. Gordon slammed his computer shut. He'd seen enough. Wounded- that's what Wayne had been. Wounded by death and by deception. Nauseated, Gordon realized he'd added to a fresh, raw, and gaping wound. With Batman hunted and forced to lay low, Wayne would grieve behind the doors of his magnificent home and precarious reputation for...

_"No one's seen Wayne in years..."_

Gordon put his head in his hands and groaned, grief washing over him. If that didn't make the Batman seem human, nothing would. Before, the two of them had a job to do. It wasn't that Gordon was callous and didn't care that Batman had been a mere mortal. It was that Gordon didn't want or _need_ to know. But now...things had changed.

"Commissioner, is this a bad time?"

Gordon, perhaps still conditioned by Batman's silent arrivals and exits, hardly jumped at the sultry voice behind him.

"Miss Kyle," he waved his hand to the empty chair at his table, not bothering to look about. The hours had been long, his heart left to drag on the ground, whatever pieces were left of it. "Have a seat, please."

Miss Kyle slipped easily into the chair, her black mask providing an escape from making this a personal, friendly visit.

"You wanted to see me."

"A board member of Wayne Enterprises is missing. Douglas Fredericks."

"File a missing persons report. It's a mess, Miss Kyle, but we're trying."

"His daughter and three-year old granddaughter are at the clinic near Crime Alley. They have nothing, Commissioner, and no one but him to turn to.

She added the sob story quite well.

"And he was one of the board members Bane took to authorize the nuclear bomb."

Gordon frowned. "Unfortunately, it may be a lost cause to search for him."

"I don't think he's dead. Mr. Fox had been taken, too." She bit her lip, and hesitated.

"Where do you think he is?" Gordon surmised she knew something to aid in this case, but didn't want to get herself into more trouble.

"The tunnels." She narrowed her eyes, pausing. "There are a few places, places not in any record, that I don't think your police force have looked. I have an old friend who let's just say bides his time well and is no one you wish to cross. He gave me these pictures that he took weeks ago with a built-in camera in his jacket."

She handed him a flash drive.

"I have to go."

"You're not going to help me find him?"

"I've done all I can. I have something else to tend to."

"That's more important than reuniting a lost grandfather with his three year old granddaughter?" Gordon cocked his head.

She nodded unapologetically. "Yes."

"Alright. I will get right on it."

"Thank you," Miss Kyle stared at him. "I'll be in touch."

She stood, and was halfway out his window when she paused and turned around.

"I was twenty when the Joker terrorized Gotham." Miss Kyle said, hand resting on the window as she crouched.

"You saw." Gordon couldn't imagine what she'd thought seeing the twisted face of the Joker and the dark, powerful form of Batman behind him. Nor of anything else that went down all those years ago that was hinted at in the footage. "It seemed a lifetime ago, until I pulled this up. Batman scared me, then, I admit. I thought he was going to...well..."

Gordon sighed, knowing that finishing his sentence was unnecessary, especially for one as intelligent and quick as Miss Kyle. She'd heard every word, seen the evil pouring from the Joker as he planned the perfect punch line for his joke on the Batman.

"Why did you watch that? Why now?"

"Detective work? Hindsight? The kidnapping hadn't only been about Harvey Dent. It had been about the Batman. I never knew the depth of the Joker's insatiable evil until now. Miss Dawes and Harvey Dent were mere pawns the Joker used to try to destroy Batman. He almost succeeded, I think. Eight years, Miss Kyle, and when Wayne walked out of his manor for the first time, he still carried that limp. The injury he'd sustained after either fighting the Joker or saving my son from being murdered by Dent...and falling several stories. Why? Why did he never get it treated?"

The woman's eyes glittered dangerously. "I don't know."

Gordon had a pretty good idea, though.

"Why are you digging up his ghosts? He's dead."

Gordon startled, picking up on Miss Kyle's nuances - the clenching fingers and especially, the flicker of emotion behind her harsh words.

"Can't you leave well enough alone? Let him die in peace?"

"I _am_ letting him die in peace," he stated calmly. "Batman did more for this city than any of use could ever know, but what is important to me as I help pick up the pieces of Gotham is recognize that he..."

Gordon sighed and shook his head at himself. He couldn't explain the reasoning behind his investigation.

"Gordon." Miss Kyle's voice changed as Gordon couldn't find the right words to say. "This has been difficult for you."

"Maybe you could tell me what you thought of him?" He asked quietly, avoiding her direct question. Difficult? He'd resorted to calling his estranged wife, not that it had helped any.

"I saw no more than _you_," she laid on the sultry voice. Gordon dug deeper, seeing a tiny crack in her facade.

"You obviously saw more." Gordon nodded, thinking of her hasty kissing of the Batman before he sacrificed himself for thousands. "I'd like to hear anything about him, really. I miss my friend. We were a team."

Miss Kyle hissed in a breath and paused, seemingly in an indecision. She slid off the window ledge and silently made her way to stand a few feet from Gordon. She lifted her mask, eyes blinking and oddly vulnerable, and she asked Gordon a question that was a gift, pure and simple.

"What do you want to know?"

* * *

Selina placed a neatly wrapped package by Bruce's bedside the next morning. She'd chosen this gift, one she'd been tempted to steal last night rather than purchasing, with Bruce distinctly and fully on her mind. Considering she was giving the gift to this noble man, who lay peacefully asleep on his good side, she'd refrained from thievery- for his sake. A piece of 'borrowed' newspaper from the waiting room snugly wrapped her small token, and it hadn't been hard at all to find a piece of ribbon. Selina reminded herself that returning the ribbon which now embellished the gift was as equally important as honorably purchasing the gift for Bruce. Nurse Beth's secured locker would not be hard to break into a second time to slip the ribbon back into her purse. Selina smirked. Only the ribbon. The earrings, Selina discovered, were surprisingly valuable.

Selina cautiously brushed away that errant lock of Bruce's hair falling across his forehead, not wanting to awaken him, and then fixed the covers over his chilled arms. He'd had a better night, one free of migraines, but that was obvious even without Leslie's report. Selina gave just as much thought to why she'd read Bruce so well in such a short time as she had to the way she brushed his hair from his face- an insignificant amount, for the way it terrified her. He looked well-rested, and perhaps had slept the best he'd had for days, and for all she knew, months. He lacked the shadows under his eyes, for one. He'd also not moved a muscle since she'd arrived fifteen minutes ago.

Bruce lay serene and unhindered by his limited memory, and Selina found herself falling harder for a man whose very last thought of her was painful and bitter. It hurt each time she faced him, but not because he laid blame where it was due. It hurt because of the hope with which he looked at her, the hope for staying and being more, the hope she did not know how long she could give. It hurt because his consistent reaction each time he saw her reinforced how good, noble, and honorable he was-and that her very existence had, so far, depended upon cheating the mostly good and honorable.

Bruce awoke an hour later. Selina was ready, perched on the window sill beside his bed, reading. Eyes languidly watching her and the slumber not yet gone from his eyes, Bruce's silence was a bit disconcerting. She closed her book and slid down. She settled herself in the chair close to him, softly giving him a smile. She almost allowed herself to think that he remembered.

"Where am I?" He finally asked.

"Dr. Thompkins' clinic," she said, concerned now as he went into a fit of coughing. "Would you like some water?"

Bruce coughed again but returned to his stony silence and impassive stare. She sighed inwardly, suspecting that this time, it wouldn't be easy working with Bruce.

"I'm going to help you to a comfortable sitting position, Bruce, then I'll get your water." Like she'd done this a dozen times already- because, in truth, she had- she helped him lay on his back, supported with pillows and aware of his wound, and pressed the button to recline partway. He blinked at her, eyes still teeming with sleep.

"You're helping me, Miss Kyle?" He asked, breathless. She set down the cup on his bedtray and moved it carefully over to him. He took a few sips and looked around his room with a frown.

"Yes," she placed his folder on the tray, absently caressing the top, wishing that it were his hand or anything else of Bruce Wayne, for that matter. Her attraction to Wayne had grown, becoming a ridiculous, insatiable problem. Especially now that she that footage the previous night. After leaving Gordon's, and still having kept Bruce's secret under wraps, Selina wandered a store to find this gift. She did so only because she was still half shell-shocked by what she had seen. It didn't take much for her to piece together the mysterious, crippled man she'd first met with the one who'd emerged from his hiding place and then to the man who sacrificed himself for Gotham. He'd loved and he'd lost - immeasurably. "I am."

"Bane? The bomb?"

"Gotham is safe, thanks to Batman. Your identity is safe, Bruce. You told Leslie you wanted to stay buried." She pulled out the newspaper clipping showing Batman flying the bomb out over the bay. Leslie instructed her to stay on task, and as hard as it was to remain matter of fact, Selina shoved her desire aside and focused on repairing the man before her.

His eyes roamed the paper, falling on the headlines. "Is this paper recent?"

"Yes, Bruce." She said carefully, mindful as he appeared more tense receiving this information than any other time before. She fingered her cell phone, ready to text Leslie that he was extremely unsettled.

"February," he said tightly. "I don't remember coming back, Miss Kyle. The last thing I remember is climbing out of a prison in India."

"India?" The location of the prison was new information. Selina lifted an eyebrow. So, he'd come back from being half-way around the world.

He nodded crisply, still reading the paper. "It's an ancient place, a pit called 'hell on earth.' Bane took me there and dropped my broken body on a cot."

Selina's breath caught. She didn't want to hear any reminders of her betrayal, but Leslie did tell her to let him talk about recent events, in hopes that Bruce would be able to begin to remember. "Go on."

"He wanted me to watch Gotham's desolation, knowing I couldn't do a single thing to help my city. A man, my caretaker, punched in my vertebrae and forced me to hang by a crude strap for weeks- maybe months, I don't really know- until my back healed and I could stand on my own and walk. I couldn't fail. I had to get back to Gotham in time. It consumed me. I was finally well enough to make the climb, but I failed. I tried a second time, and failed again."

It was as many words he spoke in one sitting, and by far, the worst of his experiences she'd had to hear. Nauseated, Selina swallowed and took a moment to balance herself. "How did you escape?"

"I found...the key." It was a cryptic answer. His expression shadowed, alluding that the key was nothing physical. "I found the key, and that's all I remember. My memory, Miss Kyle. It's gone, isn't it?"

"Your short-term memory, Bruce, and pieces since you left India." She leaned forward, observing the clenched fists barely suppressed at his side and the eyes that now expressed more anger than confusion. "Dr. Thomkins believes your short term memory will come with time."

"How much time?" Bruce barely waited before she was finished to ask.

"A few more weeks. Or, it could take several months."

He closed his eyes, and ran his hand through his hair. "Miss Kyle. How long...how long have I..."

He didn't finish and wouldn't look at her. She worried as his dark expression intensified by the second. She mulled in her mind how to answer, this being was closest she'd seen him to brooding. That day he shot the arrow at her had nothing on this. It unnerved her, and Selina wasn't one to be taken aback by much-if anything at all.

"How long have you been at the clinic?"

"Yes," he growled in that masked, rasping voice of his. Cheekily, she almost asked him if he wanted to don his cape and cowl, but his hand moved to his stab wound and she held her tongue.

"This is the sixth day, but the fourth day you've been awake."

He muttered a colorful string of what she assumed to be curse words in French. And then in Italian. And then...

"So, you know French, Italian, and what other language did you just curse in?" She asked with dry amusement.

"Bhutanese," he grunted, eyes still closed and hand pressed against his side.

"It would be a good idea for you to stop brooding-

"I'm _not brooding_."

Selina rolled her eyes at his inflection and continued, not missing a beat, "...so we can talk about more important things, like what exactly happened to you, including your side, which clearly bothers you right now, and what we need to do to get your memory back-therapy. We don't have much time until we begin this conversation all over again, Bruce."

"We?" His posture wilted. "What do you mean by 'we?' What do I have to do? Who's we?"

"We is you, Mr. Wayne," She altered her voice to perfected sultry tones, determined to draw him in like a siren does her sailor-man. _Come on, Bruce. The brooding thing doesn't work for you right now_. "...and me."

He opened his eyes, his mouth nudging little by little into a smile, if one could exaggerate. She waited, and sure enough, it was the small smile Bruce Wayne gave her when he visited her in Old Town, although she'd aimed for the one he shot her yesterday, this would suffice. She preened inwardly that he opened his eyes for her. "You...and me?"

"Yes, and we'll start you off with this." She gently placed the folder on his lap, knowing they must neither wool-gather or play at flirting.

"Why?"

Selina sighed. He hadn't even looked at it.

"It explains everything, and every time you forget, we have to go over it. Someday, you'll begin to remember, but we have to be consistent, Bruce."

"Why did you stay?"

She wasn't ready for his blunt question. Time was precious for Bruce, and Selina wanted nothing better for him than complete recovery, no matter how much it pained her to move on from the fact that he was close to realizing she'd stuck around solely for him. "Please, start from the beginning...and then we'll talk about that, okay?"

She handed him the package next, inevitably brushing against him as she transferred it to his lap. In one smooth movement, Bruce had grabbed hold of her hand before she even saw it coming and she fell to a seat on his bed beside him.

"Didn't you want to start over?" He peered intently at her, grasping her hand as if it were, too, a lifeline and not just her words. She didn't like being manhandled, but she couldn't lie to herself. She'd wanted him to reach for her. "I don't understand. You stayed. More than that, you're here, with me, a man who has a shortened memory span. Selina, I'm a dead end for you."

"No." She wished to shrug her involvement away but she'd not stoop to agreeing with a man too humble to see he wasn't a dead end to her. "You're not. This is a bump in the road for you. Didn't you just tell me that you escaped a prison? And you returned half-a-world away to fight Bane for your city. Not only that, you escaped a bomb. And, yes, I'm staying, but don't read too much into it, Wayne. Once, I missed my bus to play nurse to an injured rodent."

"There is more to you," Bruce commented, studying her face. "I knew there was."

"I'm here because I am certain I can help you."

"Of course you are," he quipped, the smug look on his face nothing short of annoying and the joy on his face altogether too tempting. His hand touched her face, eliciting all the desires Selina had tamped down for his sake while he tried to find the parts he'd lost of himself. As his hazel eyes searched her eyes, her cheeks, and then her lips, she could hardly breathe for the anticipation. It wasn't hard to see where Bruce wanted this to lead.

Selina stared at a crossroads. One path led them along the straight and narrow, the other wound them both dangerously around unfamiliar territory. One guaranteed never hurting Bruce, the other was sure to break down her walls. One would satisfy a desperate longing, the other would only intensify her desire beyond her control.

"Don't," she pleaded. "You won't remember, Bruce. It won't be fair to you."

"Selina, that may be the truth, but I know what I want now." His eyes gleamed. "I want to kiss you, Miss Kyle."

"No, Bruce." She had to make him understand. "I won't use you like this."

"You're not using me. I know what I'm doing."

"Bruce-"

"I trust you."

"Only one kiss," she broke, no longer fighting her attraction. She moved closer and paused, wanting to look at him directly. "And then, I promise you, Bruce Wayne, never again, not until you are well on your way to being able to remember when you kiss a woman."

She lingered a breath away from his lips. Bruce closed the distance and pressed his mouth against hers. His hand cupped her hip, urging her closer. She willingly moved forward, and her body brushed against his in a way that sent her senses through the roof. Bruce fully claimed what he wanted, and then some. This was dangerous, and Selina let it go only so far, for it wasn't beyond Leslie to stop in without a warning. Selina luxuriated in his taste and his ardor for her. As their tongues caressed and their arms wrapped around each other for far too short a moment, she silently begged his forgiveness. She had every intention of breaking her promise.

For if he wanted to kiss her again, who was she to deny such a simple request made by the hero of Gotham.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note**: I updated! I didn't expect to be able to pull it off on this trip, but here it is! Chapter Six...and I'll be honest. This chapter gave me grief. However, now that I've rewritten it maybe five times over, and _the veritable iron rose_ was able to beta for me (thank you so much! you work wonders!), it has become one of my favorite chapters to share with you. To all my reviewers- thank you for taking the time to do so. I greatly appreciate your comments!

AN: edited, thanks to LcLalr, who pointed out my error in regards to the years Bruce secluded himself away in Wayne Manor.

* * *

Selina Kyle drove him to insanity and instead of fighting it, he embraced the feeling. She tasted sweet, with a hint of cinnamon, and he couldn't get enough. She kissed him back with equal fervor, but he wanted more. Greedily, Bruce trailed kisses down her chin to her neck, taking pleasure at the slight quiver of her body underneath his assault.

"Mr. Wayne," Selina said breathlessly.

"Hm?" He pressed another kiss to the curve of her neck and paused.

"Bruce."

"Mm," He rested his head against that same curve, wondering how he was going to control himself after this.

"Don't you think you'd better stop?" She whispered.

He smiled to himself. Did she really want him to answer that? "Not yet. Another minute."

"Bruce," Selina protested as he swiftly picked up where he had stopped. Her hands pushed against his chest. "I'm serious."

He ignored both her and the nagging voice in the back of his mind that she was right. Selina sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist as before. She was being careful with him, but he threw caution to the wind.

It wasn't enough, any of it, but what he did get he savored.

"You're pushing the limits here. Leslie could come in on us at any-"

"So?" His voice was muffled by the tender skin of her neck. "We're adults."

"That's exactly my point." Selina retorted dryly.

He chuckled and came up for air, a smile playing at his lips. "But I like kissing you."

"Mr. Wayne, it's not a question about not-"

Something was wrong. Bruce stared at Selina as the moment crashes around his shoulders, wrecking his concentration and destroying his ability to focus. He was confused. He didn't know why, but instinctively he fought to keep himself grounded. _Think, Wayne. Think_. He went over facts, one by one, not that he knew what facts to go over but he knew it was something he did over and over again. Therapy, they'd called it. Therapy. His heart raced as he tripped over information. He was… he was at the clinic. Gotham was safe. Selina… Selina was helping him. His memory was faulty. He was injured. Maybe he didn't remember how he'd been injured, but he was here with Miss Kyle, and that's what he clung to. Then he remembered… that it would soon end, this beautiful, wonderful moment with the woman who'd forced him out of his pathetic existence - and there was not a single thing he could do about it.

"No," he groaned.

"Bruce." Selina's hands gently encompassed his face. He silently cursed the inevitable. "It's okay, Bruce. It's okay."

She pulled him towards her and he willingly leaned forward, coming to rest his head against her shoulder. He basked in her comfort, a shelter amidst a broken trail of thoughts and memories. Without truly knowing why, Bruce apologized. "I'm sorry, Selina."

"Don't be. I enjoyed myself, Bruce."

"No, I'm sorry...I..." He blinked, wondering how she'd move on from their kiss when she knew he'd soon forget. It'd been selfish of him from the very beginning. He should tell her not to let him do that ever again, but he wanted his forgetful self to experience kissing Selina Kyle, even though it'd been nothing short of a drug to pacify him for a moment and leave him craving for more.

"No," she said firmly. "Don't apologize."

He nodded absently.

"Bruce..."

He closed his eyes, at a loss for words. He had too many questions to even begin asking.

"Bruce, do you know..." The hesitation in Miss Kyle's voice clued him in that all was not right in his world. She felt safe to him, which was a contradiction in its entirety. He remained tucked underneath her chin, not wanting to move from the physical and emotional warmth her arms provided. He was tired. He hurt. He was bewildered beyond anything he'd ever known. "Do you remember where you are?"

Bruce ruminated on his answer, sensing the distinct swing of a pendulum.

"No," he whispered.

* * *

"You both need a change of scenery."

Selina stood facing Dr. Thompkins in the hallway outside of Bruce's door the next day, barely able to hold herself together. She stared at Leslie in disbelief. The doctor was correct, but taking Bruce anywhere was out of the question. Gotham still believed him gone.

"Yesterday was rough on you, Selina. I don't know what happened, but it's causing strain between you and Bruce."

"The tension is my fault, not his," she said truthfully. She'd been crushed to see Bruce so distraught as his memories unraveled while they kissed. He couldn't remember now, of course, but she would never forget the bewilderment on his face - and the emotional upheaval it had caused him.

Guilt ridden, Selina had kept away from him for the rest of the day, which seemed to have done more damage than she would have bargained for. He'd not responded to therapy like he had before the incident, and Leslie had noticed the small step back.

"A change of scenery would do you good."

"And where would we go, exactly?"

"Outside," Leslie stated simply. "I'll grab some things from the lost and found. I think there's a winter coat in there that may fit Bruce and some gloves for the both of you."

"He can hardly sit up for any length of time without hurting."

"Ten minutes is all you need."

* * *

James Gordon stood in the tunnels, a half-mile from Bane's former centralized area of production. He'd assumed a personal interest in the search for Mr. Fredericks, accompanying the dozen police officers who'd commenced their search at eight AM the day before. It was the least he could do for the late Bruce Wayne. Now, twenty-four hours later, the pictures Miss Kyle had given the Commissioner had only proved to be a dead-end. She'd been certain these would lead them to Fredericks, so Gordon motioned to his men to to try again, this time with a finer-toothed comb. Whoever took the photos had been in the thick of things, perhaps a mole right under Bane's nose. They'd be useful beyond this search, that much was certain. Gordon turned on his heel, backtracking the way he'd just come and bringing up the short conversation he'd had with Miss Kyle the night before.

_"He was a quiet, crippled, bedraggled man when I first met him, Commissioner."_

_"Bedraggled?"_

_"He wore a robe over his clothing, a solemn expression, and a goatee," she shrugged. Bruce Wayne, with facial hair? That was a bit strange, but it made sense the more he considered how Wayne secluded himself from the world. Gordon watched her carefully, noticing her flippancy hid some other emotion, one closely guarded. "What did you expect from a guy who shut himself in his overgrown house for all those years?"_

_In truth? Gordon did not know, but after realizing how much pain Miss Dawe's death could've caused Wayne, it didn't seem to hard to believe. _

_"But he surprised me with a damn arrow," she muttered, "and every other time I saw him, he did the unexpected."_

_"How?"_

_"He rose to the challenge. I hadn't expected him to, because that wasn't the Bruce Wayne I'd read about in any headline," Miss Kyle tilted her head. "He treated me fairly even though he had every right not to. He offered me a way out of the life I had, and I took it."_

_"That explains why I can't find a single record of yours in our database or otherwise?"_

_She nodded. _

_"You've...changed."_

_She shrugged again, making no further effort to continue the conversation._

_"You stayed in a Gotham because...?"_

_"Look, are we talking about Wayne, or me?"_

_Gordon rubbed his jaw. "He learned all of his skills in prep school?"_

_"Try seven years of traveling the world and intimately case-studying criminals by immersing himself in their world, and being trained in..." Her voice faded._

_"Miss Kyle?"_

_"If he could," she smiled almost wickedly, "I'm sure he'd explain the rest, but that's all I have."_

_No doubt it wasn't all she had but Gordon merely nodded. He'd have to mull over this information enough, as it was. Immersing himself in the criminal world? Had Bruce Wayne first become a criminal to study them so he could fight against them later?_

_"I should go."_

_"Where can I reach you, Miss Kyle?"_

_"It's not Selina Kyle anymore. I'm Catherine Asher," she hesitated. "I'm helping Dr. Thompkins at the clinic where Fredericks' granddaughter is being treated."_

_"I'm pleasantly surprised to hear that, Miss Kyle."_

_"You don't pull any punches, do you Commissioner?" She murmured. "No wonder Bruce trusted you."_

"Sir! We found the door!"

The cry crashed through Gordon's thoughts and he sprinted down the tunnel towards his men, certain he'd be able to soon pay a visit at the clinic to inform Catherine Asher she'd helped reunite a family. He wasn't mistaken. Douglas Fredericks, along with twenty other wealthier citizens of Gotham that Bane's men had herded together, stumbled out of forced hiding from behind thick soundproofed walls. All were surprisingly able to walk out on their own accord, considering how deeply underground they'd been forced to live for weeks.

Gordon sat beside a thin, fatigued Fredericks outside a tunnel entrance. While Fredericks soaked in the sun that peeked through the ever-present snow clouds, Gordon called Dr. Thompkins' clinic, alerting the receptionist that he was bringing a man in for emergency care. Then, he offered Fredericks a small smile and shook his hand. "Mr. Fredericks, how would you like to see your family?"

* * *

"This is nice. Thank you." Bruce murmured, caught up in the fresh air and sunlight pouring down on the patio. He sighed contentedly, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. They were alone, thanks to Leslie, who had cleared the area for their time outside.

"This is cold." She burrowed her way between the wall and Bruce's wheelchair, as if she were trying to find some respite from the chill.

"I climbed a snow-covered Tibetan mountain in the rags I'd worn in prison. That was cold."

"Of course you climbed a snow-covered mountain in rags," she muttered, rubbing her hands together. She wore heavy gloves and a well-insulated coat and still, the low temperatures chilled her. Guilt flooded him for being so agreeable to this, but at least he'd seen that the snow had finally stopped falling. He'd wanted to see a liberated Gotham set in its winter scape from the other side of the window. "You probably swam the English Channel naked in the winter, too."

He fought a smile. "Maybe we should go inside. I don't have to be out here. It's fine. I admit my tolerance for cold weather is quite high."

It had been ever since he left Gotham to parley with criminals, and especially since he'd trained with the League of Shadows.

"No, you need this," Selina retorted, voice muffled through her scarf. "Leslie was right, Bruce. I know you can't remember this, but you've been stuck indoors for days."

"How many?"

"Seven."

He winced and shifted in his seat. A week, forgotten.

"You're able to sit up without too much discomfort now, so this is good for you only if we take it slow."

"But you're cold. Here." Bruce held out his blanket. "I can handle the lower temperature."

"I don't need your chivalry, Mr. Wayne."

"Selina..." He frowned at the switch to Mr. Wayne and took off his sunglasses. "What's bothering you?"

"What makes you think something's bothering me?"

"I..." He paused, thinking carefully how he should answer. Her body language gave her away. She wouldn't meet his eyes and hadn't since his nurse had attempted to take Selina's place with him outside. Selina pressed her lips tight, and her hands constantly clenched and unclenched inside her coat pockets. "A feeling."

"You can't possibly know that something is bothering me."

_But he did_.

"You can't know."

She stiffened her spine and expression in an obvious attempt to be as cold as the air she scorned. Compassion flooded him as he watched her - and waited.

"Oh, don't look at me like that." Selina tore the blanket from his grip. "Fine. Something is bothering me but I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough." He silently mused again that the reason behind Selina's irritation had to be the nurse who almost brought him outside rather than Selina. He hoped it was the nurse and not something he'd done. Thankfully, Leslie buffered the tension between the two women and diverted the nurse's attention with news of another patient. Bruce frowned, knowing he should remember the nurse's name but for the life of him, he could not. Bruce didn't dare ask Selina either.

Selina curled the blanket around her body, her mouth no longer turned downward. Happy that she was at least a bit warmer, Bruce shifted in his seat again. He'd desperately wanted this time outside, but he had a sense he would pay for it later. The chilly air already wasn't doing his knees any favors.

"You're fidgeting. How's your side?"

"Tolerable." He exhaled heavily and reached a hand down to rub his knees.

"Bruce, we should go back inside," she scowled at him. "It's been five minutes already. I don't want you to have a setback."

"Please. I want to be out here. And you've bundled me up like a polar bear. It's just a little ache in the knees, nothing that I've not had before." He stubbornly shook off the slight burning in his torso and the weariness of his shoulders. He remembered what he had on his lap and pulled out the gift she'd given him. "Besides, it's the perfect time to open this."

She said nothing but her eyes glittered with an unreadable emotion as he unwrapped the package. He amusedly opened the newspaper wrapping and tugged at the ribbon. She'd given him a gift. Not only was she here, but she'd actually given him a gift. Within seconds, the wrapping fell to his lap and he grinned boyishly at her. "This is great."

Her silence didn't deter his enthusiasm. Who was he to talk? He was guilty of his own sullen moments. Bruce continued to admire her small token towards his efforts in therapy - a pink journal covered with black cats. It may have been completely ridiculous for it to be in a man's hands, but it was completely appropriate for him.

"It's perfect for all those notes I have to take. This will help me remember that it's you here with me," he mused. A small noncommittal sound came from Selina and he froze. _That was it._ Bruce held the journal with a new-found reverence. Somehow, she'd come to care if he remembered her or not. She wanted him to remember her. That meant… what? He did remember she'd never wanted to stay in Gotham, but beyond that… there was nothing about her here with him on a daily basis. "It will help me remember."

"Maybe."

"I want it to," he said honestly, reaching for her hand. "Selina, thank you."

It was a fumbling of hands. For a split second, Bruce thought she was resisting him. But then, with his gloves twice as thick as her padded ones, they finally entangled their fingers like adolescents on the brink of a significant discovery. He determined that more than likely, neither of them had ever so awkwardly held hands with anyone like that before, but it didn't matter. He was happy, and even though her lips curved neither to a smile nor a frown, he was certain she was too. He didn't know what to think when she inched closer to him or as they held hands for the remaining time they were out in the cold. What he did know was that it was wondrously elemental and so very, very right.

* * *

Gordon slipped out of Frederick's room at the clinic, eager to see Miss Kyle and inform her that her good deed had not gone to waste. Frederick's daughter spoke highly of her. Apparently, not only had "Cat" provided the information to find Mr. Fredericks, but she had also dropped off a small gift for his granddaughter this morning, making quite the impression. With a smile that lit the room, Cora had proudly showed Gordon her new pink journal covered with black cats. Gordon missed his own children and the years that had passed without seeing them as often as he'd liked, so he'd indulged in a few moments of visiting.

He walked up to the receptionist's desk. "Excuse me. I'm looking for Catherine Asher."

"Cat?" A nurse, young and wide-eyed, glanced up from her standing position behind the desk, replying before the receptionist sitting beside her. "I know just where to find her. She's always with the same patient. Follow me."

"Thank you."

The nurse smiled brightly and almost skipped ahead of Gordon. He adjusted his first estimated age for her to one even younger. "Of course. She's never had a visitor before, so this will be nice. She works too hard. I wanted to check on Thomas myself anyways."

"Thomas?" Gordon quickened his stride to keep up.

"Oh," She blushed. "Right. I can't divulge patient information. Sorry. Anyways, it's just down here. You can talk in the hall, for she hates to leave...um...her friend… for anything during the day. I mean, I understand why, since Dr. Thompkins said she knew him from a long time ago, but still, the rest of us are capable for caring for him. Anyways, we're almost there."

"This is a patients' wing?" Gordon lifted an eyebrow as they approached a darkened hallway blocked by heavy, double doors.

"Oh, we keep this area of the clinic very quiet, and even though we're spilling at the seams. Dr. Thompkins doesn't allow any of our other patients in this wing. Only one."

She continued her incessant chattering as they entered the foreboding wing. Strangely enough, compared to the rest of the clinic, the hall was vacant and eerily quiet. Even though Dr. Thompkins had assured him earlier she was not harboring criminals, the seclusion gave Gordon pause.

"Wait here," the nurse whispered, stopping Gordon several feet away from the door. She knocked, and a moment later, a casually dressed Selina Kyle appeared from behind a partially closed door. Her face tight, she looked at the nurse in what seemed to be excessive irritation.

"You have a visitor, Cat."

"Nurse Beth," Miss Kyle said through clenched teeth. "Now is not a good time - but since you're here, Thomas needs a good dose of painkillers."

"Migraine?"

"It hit him like a freight train not quite five minutes ago, shortly after we came in from the patio. He's nauseated beyond belief."

Nurse Beth's countenance changed immediately - suddenly, she was all business. "Let me check on him myself, and then I'll see what I can do. Here's your visitor." Nurse Beth inclined her head towards Gordon and pushed past Selina.

At the sight of Gordon, Miss Kyle's eyes flickered with panic before she schooled her features into an impassive mask. Gordon frowned, wondering what exactly had caught her off guard. Surely not him seeking her out. She'd given him the name of the place, after all. Miss Kyle's hand swiftly pulled the door closed. Without intending to, Gordon caught a partial glimpse of a black haired, bearded man lying on a bed, elbows in the air as he clutched his head and clearly struggled with his sudden onset of pain.

She moved in front of his sight, her cheap plastic smile only provoking Gordon's curiosity.

"What can I do for you, Commissioner?"

"We found him in the tunnels two hours ago, along with about twenty others."

Her expression instantaneously changed into genuine relief. "You found Mr. Fredericks?"

"Yes," Gordon said. "Alive and well enough, considering the circumstances. I brought him here to be treated by Dr. Thompkins."

"That will be convenient for Annette." Miss Kyle's politeness was forced. Gordon didn't mind, now having observed the exhaustion lining her face and the slight rounding of her shoulders. Slowly, she rubbed her eyes and sighed. "Her father is alright?"

"He needs a few days of monitoring, given his age, but yes, he's fine."

"I think that Bruce...Mr. Wayne...would be very grateful." Miss Kyle blinked and glanced back at her patient's room. "I hate to make this short, but I should return to my patient."

"Your friend...will he be alright?" He questioned with genuine concern, his gut instantly telling him this was no ordinary patient.

"Someday." she said quietly. "He will be someday, as long as I am here to help him."

"You are quite committed."

"Right now, I have to be." With that, she turned on her heel.

"Miss Asher," Gordon wanted to try one last time. "Will you rethink my offer to help us?"

Miss Kyle's hand hovered over the doorknob. "I really can't, Commissioner. I'm needed here."

"I understand, but if anything changes, you know where to find me."

She nodded and stood by the door like a guardian, making no move yet to enter the patient's room.

Getting the impression she wanted privacy to reenter the room, Gordon exited the hallway. As he walked out of the clinic, all he could think about was his friend - a bearded Bruce Wayne, holed up in Wayne Manor for three, long and desperate years, now dead.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: I apologize for the wait. Getting back home and into the swing of things again was a bit more difficult than I thought after a week's absence. I've appreciated all the reviews coming...critiques, too. Thanks to LcLaIr, I've fixed a plot point in chapter six. All errors in this chapter are mine. :) Thanks so much for reading and for your reviews! Curiously, a couple of reviews last time correlate just a little with what I'd planned. I am excited about sharing the chapters to come. I believe some of you are anxious for Bruce to finally remember, and I'm anxious for all my plot points to come together! Much to look forward to and we have a ways to go, so hold on. Hope you enjoy the journey. One of these days, but it may be a few chapters away, I promise that Bruce will have a moment in some action. I'll leave it at that!

* * *

Gordon alternated between pacing and mindlessly watching television that evening and into the early hours of the next morning. Unable to sleep at two a.m., he poured himself a cup of coffee and pieced together the clues right in front of him for the upteenth time. He then chided himself for reading too much into Miss Kyle's unconvincing performance. It couldn't be. He compared the image of the bearded man in the hospital bed to the reclusive Bruce Wayne he'd also imagined. _It had to be him_. In disbelief, Gordon heaved himself in a chair and slapped a palm on his kitchen table. The answer had been in front of him the entire time. His own grief - and muddied mental state - had stopped him from a bittersweet, heart- wrenching discovery.

He gave a light-hearted laugh. Bruce Wayne was alive. Batman was alive. His partner..._alive_. Gordon wanted to laugh again, but his breath caught thinking of the reality that his friend faced. Bruce was alive, but not alive _and_ well. It was not only a discovery which made sense, given what Gordon saw briefly through the open door, but a discovery that grieved Gordon almost as much as thinking Wayne was dead. He didn't know to what extent Bruce's injuries were, and Gordon could not leave it alone. He arrived at the clinic the minute the doors opened that morning. He asked to speak to Dr. Thompkins, giving the receptionist the message he wished to discuss her patient, Thomas Highland. It took all he had to remain silent while the doctor approached him in the empty waiting room and led him to her office down the hallway.

"Have a seat, Commissioner." Dr. Thompkins regarded him quietly as he sat, her expression now fierce like that of a mother tiger. In that instant, Gordon knew without a shadow of a doubt that his partner was alive.

Gordon shook his head, half-disgusted with himself that he'd not looked here in the first place for Bruce Wayne. When Bruce was a young boy, Gordon kept close tabs on the child. Bruce's guardian, Alfred Pennyworth, had taken him on visits to Dr. Thompkins. "He's here. He's alive."

"You have to understand that he only wants Miss Kyle and myself to know he survived that bomb, not even Alfred. The fact that I am discussing this with you is breaking my confidence with him." Dr. Thompkins paused. "But I assume you would find some way to confirm your theory, and it's better for me to talk with you first before you break into his room. Selina was concerned you'd figure it out."

Gordon considered that carefully, pushing his own hurt aside. Whatever Wayne wanted, Gordon would not get in the way. "He wants to remain...hidden."

"Yes. He wants to move beyond all of this. Bruce Wayne is dead." Dr. Thompkins nodded. "It's a complicated situation."

"I understand."

"No, Commissioner. You don't." Dr. Thompkins frowned. "He suffered a traumatic brain injury and doesn't remember that he told you who he was, among other things. Commissioner, he doesn't remember anything about the day Batman saved Gotham, nor certain pieces of days - weeks - before. His short term memory is completely impaired. We are working with him, but his progress has been slow. Slow to the point I am concerned this will be permanent."

Feeling like he had been punched in the gut, Gordon's breath rushed out of him. _No_, he silently argued. _This...suffering from memory loss? This wasn't fair. Not Batman...not Bruce Wayne._

"I haven't told Miss Kyle my concerns. Neither have I discussed it with Bruce. Now that I've told you, I expect you to understand one more thing."

"Dr. Thomp-"

She held up a hand. "As his physician, I am aware of the delicate balance between his mind and his physical body. He doesn't need yet another complication or more confusion. He doesn't need more information than is necessary to process. I hope he proves me wrong and his memory returns to allow him the ability to piece things together on his own. I also hope he decides on his own to inform you he alive. Until then, Commissioner, and for the best interest of my patient, I cannot permit you to see him."

"I see," Gordon said quietly. "And those headaches? Are those a complication?"

"Migraines." Dr. Thompkins stated, narrowing her eyes. "They are, Commissioner."

"He has more than migraines and a faulty memory keeping him here."

"He does." Dr. Thompkins said simply, not offering any other explanation. Gordon stood, dissatisfied with the lack of information but understanding of the position in which he'd placed the doctor.

"Will you keep me updated?"

"Come back in a few days. I can't allow him to have visitors, you understand, but I would rather discuss his progress in person. I also will keep the fact that you know the truth just between you and me. It may be best Selina doesn't know you figured it out. She worries too much as it is about Bruce, and some days that worry directly affects Bruce."

He nodded. It was more than he'd expected and he would take it without any complaint. A few short days? Gordon would return in three.

* * *

"You need to see how he is, Selina. Not talk with him, but watching from a distance. Covertly. Please?" Bruce averted his eyes from the blaring headline on the front page of the newspaper and glanced up at Selina. "For me?"

"No."

Bruce frowned. "No? It says right here that tomorrow they commemorate the Batman monument, two weeks after his death. Gordon is in the thick of things and-"

"Of course, I will, handsome. I understand why you would be concerned."

Bruce furrowed his brow, hardly believing his ears. "You're going out in public, to observe Gordon, the police commissioner? That's too dangerous for anyone with a past like yours, even if your name isn't in the books anymore."

"It was your idea, Wayne, or did you forget already?"

"You told me a second ago. I don't forget that quickly." Had she really agreed that easily? "I'm...surprised."

"I've talked with him several times already, Bruce," Selina's expression grew serious, and she pulled herself off of her spot on the windowsill in one graceful, smooth movement.

"You what?" He knew he sounded like an incredulous idiot, but it seemed so unlike her and he'd discovered that even though Selina was beyond capable, his condition frustrated him. He understood, to his chagrin, that he could not be of any use to her in his current predicament. "Are you crazy? You can't just show your face to talk to him around oth-"

"Relax, Mr. Wayne," Selina came behind him and draped her arms over his shoulders, her warm breath caressing his ear. "I met with him late at night and at his house to take care of some business."

Distracted with her waxing seductive to his senses, which now included kneading his shoulders, her comment only partially registered. "Business?"

"Mm-hmm," she purred. "I may tell you why, if you relax."

"How can I relax when you're doing what you're doing?"

"What am I doing, Mr. Wayne?" She whispered.

"Distracting me," he closed his eyes. "But, I admit, I feel a little better- but only a little. You can keep doing that."

"I learned that one of your board members, Douglas Fredericks, was missing."

Bruce jerked his head to the side to catch a glimpse of Selina. "What? When? Not Fredericks. I like Fredericks. Always have. I hated letting him believe I burned down my own house. He was good friends with my Father. Selina-."

"Shh." With a hand on either side of his face, she turned his head back to the front. "You're rambling, Mr. Wayne, and although it's equally adorable and unnerving to hear you like this, you're working yourself up. Relax so I can finish."

Bruce closed his eyes, willing himself to do what she said. His shoulders ached with tension ever since she'd explain his situation to him and informed him it had been thirteen days since his "death." He breathed deeply, not willing to give up her touch on his shoulders. The massage was perfection.

"May I go on, Mr. Wayne?" She must have felt his shoulders release some their tension, for she continued. "Fredericks' granddaughter is being treated here at the clinic. That's how I knew about this in the first place. A few hidden rooms were created a months ago in the tunnels, courtesy of Bane. I asked a friend for photos he'd taken and gave a copy of all of them to Gordon earlier this week. That very night he and a handful of police officers went down into the tunnels. They searched until the next day, when they found your board member along with a few others."

"Selina." He reached up to his shoulder and grasped her hand, stopping her. "Thank you."

"You're not upset?"

"Upset? Why would I be upset?"

"I never told you this before because..." she hesitated.

"It's too hard to tell the man, who forgets everything, everything before he forgets again? I couldn't note it inconspicuously in my journal, anyways," he said honestly. "Don't worry about it."

"He's all the family that his daughter and small granddaughter have, Bruce. I knew there was a chance Bane moved a few of the wealthier citizens to a remote area underground. I heard rumors of it but never had solid evidence. I couldn't let that go once I heard he was still missing."

"No," Bruce said slowly. "Of course you couldn't. You're Selina Kyle, defender of the weak."

She snorted and playfully swatted his shoulders. She moved away from him. "I think we're done, Mr. Wayne."

"I'm serious. I know you." Her footsteps dimmed. "Wait. Selina? I wasn't making fun. I meant it-"

Panicked, Bruce turned his chair around, practically falling out of his chair when he realized she hadn't made a move at all, but was literally five inches from him. He frowned and tilted his head to look up at her. He was off his game and she knew it. "Don't do that."

She looked down at him smugly. "Don't do what...Batman?"

This time, Bruce rolled his eyes. "That time is over. I'm moving on. I have to. I want to leave it behind- and Gotham."

Selina's face dropped its playfulness. She stared at him with a slightly gaping mouth. "You...what?"

"You don't believe me," he mused aloud.

"No, I do believe you. You've never spoken to me about moving on beyond Batman and Gotham."

"I tried to retire before. It didn't quite work as well as I had planned."

"You don't say?" She cocked her head at him. "What did you plan this time?"

Nothing came to mind, and frustrated, Bruce gripped the sides of his chair as if that action alone would give him the answers he needed. He looked down, exasperated with himself. He could say nothing, for he knew nothing beyond the fact that he wanted Bruce Wayne to remain buried.

"It's okay, Bruce." Selina's soft voice attempted to guide him back, but he fought the comfort. He had to try harder. Work harder to not let her down.

"It's not okay," he muttered.

"Leslie would like you to see a brain trauma specialist. She thinks there may be an underlying issue she didn't find."

"Where?" He glanced up at her. "I'll do it."

Selina's eyes widened. "Just like that? You'll agree? It may include flying."

"What can I say, Cat? You inspired me. Yes. I'll do it."

When her expression softened, Bruce's stomach flipped, making him feel even more unsteady than he did a moment ago. Something significant had happened between them to bridge the gap between the last meeting between him that he remembered - her betrayal- and now. Why did she consume his thoughts? He didn't want her to leave, and he hated the thought that he was stuck in this room.

"Bruce, you need to write this down, so you'll believe me the next time."

He reluctantly released her hand, and she hurried to his bed and grabbed his journal, the gift she'd given him. He grinned at the sight - pink and covered with black cats, the journal was an obvious reminder for him to know that she was there with him. He took it from her and turned to the next blank page, taking his time with every word and making no mistakes. He didn't add the bit about Fredericks. He didn't know how to write it vaguely in his notes yet understandable to him, in case someone ever lifted his journal. With a flourish, he crossed his t's and dotted his i's, and closed the journal.

"I'll let Leslie know, and then we'll have to discuss other details. Do you feel up to working on some games on the computer?"

"If I can lie down for a little while," he admitted his discomfort.

"Your side?" He nodded, and Selina wheeled him beside the bed. She moved with efficiency and skill- Bruce couldn't help but notice her impressive but slim and curvaceous physique as she carefully helped him to his feet and hefted part of his weight to the bed. After he was settled, she didn't grab the computer. He looked at her expectantly.

"What did you mean...you hated letting Fredericks believe you burned down your own house? The headlines clearly stated-" She stopped mid-sentence, half-laughing and shaking her head. "Oh, my God. Of course. Bruce. You faked your own house-death, too?"

He grinned. "In a way."

"Well, aren't you going to tell me?"

"For another massage I will," he said casually. "But the next time, make it longer."

"It's a deal." Selina's lips curved into a smile.

"Maybe you should write it down so you don't forget," he deadpanned.

Bruce loved the way she maintained her smile as she wrote down his request on a post-it. She handed it to him. "Here. Make no mistake, I'll give you a massage to learn what I think will be the next best cover-up in history."

Bruce pressed the post it onto the top of his notebook. "No, that one belongs to Alfred."

"Your butler is the mastermind? What was it?"

"The Russian ballerinas I took on a cruise eight years ago? I left on a plane during that little excursion to catch a guy for Gordon in Hong Kong."

"That was your butler's idea?"

"Brilliant, wasn't it?" He coughed into his hand. "I was quite disappointed that I hadn't been able to stick around and enjoy-"

Selina glared at him. "Wayne, I didn't ask to find out about your little dates."

"It wasn't a date, or many dates. I was being Batman."

"You really have a flair for the dramatic, don't you? Back to your house."

It wasn't as humorous as the ballet, and it could've ended badly. Very badly. He sighed and crossed his arms. "It happened when Ra's al Ghul sought to destroy the city with a fear and panic-inducing toxin. He and his friends crashed my birthday party, and I had to disperse my guests. He was the one who then burned down my house."

Selina didn't say anything for a moment. "You weren't drunk. You pretended to be intoxicated in order to save lives."

"I don't drink at all, actually."

"You don't..." Selina snorted. "Of course you don't. What do you drink? Ginger ale?"

"Usually that was what Alfred gave me."

"Your house burned down on your birthday, then." She watched him, a softness clouding the natural intensity about her that Bruce found fascinating. "Bruce, you have all the luck."

Bruce silently agreed. She was here, wasn't she? The very woman who'd gotten the best of him in more ways than one, once even quite horrifically. She could very likely leave. Bruce expected her to. But what mattered to him was that she had stayed. She was here now. She stayed to help him despite wanting the freedom to start over somewhere else.

Bruce did, indeed, have all the luck.

* * *

True to her word, Selina excused herself from Bruce's side and made her way to downtown Gotham the next morning to see Gordon. Selina believed that cultivating the friendship she had with Bruce, every small part of it, was as important as caring for him in his room. As much as she hated to leave him with Nurse B-E-T-H, her desire to make things up to him was far greater. Bruce penned discrete notes constantly, with the exception of Fredericks' kidnapping. The note about the Batman monument was highlighted words on the newspaper clipping in his folder. He certainly would figure out that he'd ask her to check on Gordon. Selina smiled. A brain injury had certainly not affected the detective in Bruce. In fact, she noticed daily the connections he made of his notes, even if they were miniscule. He hadn't remembered anything, but his mind was working and for now, Selina rested in that.

Selina shifted her stance as Gordon made his way out of City Hall, accompanied by a member of the city council. She stood in the shadows, near several awaiting taxis. She need not await in the shadows, being that her disguise was an auburn, shorter haired civilian in jeans and a ball cap - and a wig - but she preferred to exercise some caution. Her choice for appearing in daylight was a bit reckless, and amongst police officers and city officials, no less. But when did she ever go for low-key and easy?

In another moment, Gordon's acquaintance turned on his heel, leaving the commissioner alone. She strode up to him, matching his stride a comfortable, three feet away. He seemed unsurprised to see her.

"Miss Asher." He quietly acknowledged.

"Commissioner, I came to see how you were," she murmured.

Gordon paused at the next storefront, a small mom and pop store with hardly enough to call it a storefront. He pulled out his phone, and fingered it absently.

"I don't know how to answer that."

Selina unwrapped the banana cream lollipop she'd brought with her, and savored her first taste.

"You don't have to. I wanted you to know...that...I..." Selina thought quickly. What would Bruce want her to say? "That I cared."

"That is very generous of you, Miss Asher."

"I wish I could see it," she said after another mouthful of banana cream. Would the statue be larger than life? Do the Batman justice?

Gordon inclined his head towards her, a small amount of shock in his eyes. "I could perhaps arrange that."

As tempting as the idea sounded, she shook the thought away. "It may be best if I didn't. Thank you...Gordon...for encouraging the way Gotham will remember their noble hero."

"Noble," Gordon murmured. "And Wayne?"

His words unexpected, Selina blinked in disbelief that he'd uttered Bruce's name in context with Batman on the street. _Had he lost it_? "What about him?"

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it, as if weighing his words. He watched her studiously. "Only four paid their respects."

"He didn't need more than that, Gordon. The people who mattered most to him were there." He acted like he hadn't heard her and stepped away. "Gordon."

He kept walking, hands clenched and his stride angry. From what she knew of Gordon, he was behaving uncharacteristically. More like a man caught in the throes of grief. She caught up to him, imagining Bruce's troubled reaction if he knew of Gordon's sadness. She could not allow him to leave like this.

"Five. There were five who paid their respects."

She didn't bother hiding the authentic wave of emotion pouring into her words. She hoped that knowing that she'd honored Bruce at his gravesite somehow comforted him.

Gordon glanced briefly at her and paused, hands relaxing at his sides. He took a moment to reply and the silence pressed heavily around them. Selina bit her tongue, holding back the very news which would change everything. "Thank you, Miss Asher."

He stepped into a taxi without another word, leaving without any real comfort from her, not that she was skilled in giving such things. She kept watch as the vehicle drive away, feeling as if the weight of the world was upon her. She'd begun to think of Gordon as a friend but Bruce deserved to have his secrets, if that was what he wished. However costly the secrets were to Bruce's friends, she'd not betray him again.

* * *

"No. Miss Kyle is here." Bruce rubbed his eyes, tired of arguing with the nurse like he had been even before they'd left his room. "Please, just get her."

"I'm sorry Mr. Highland, but I don't know who you are talking about." The nurse's wide, brilliant smile annoyed him, as did the fact that she ignored his request and the one thing he knew for certain - Miss Kyle was at the clinic.

Miss Kyle was here, and he knew it for the small journal covered with black cats he clutched under the blanket. He also clearly remembered kissing her...in his very room. _She was here._

"I need to talk with Dr. Thompkins, then." Bruce sighed wearily. "Inside."

"I am to keep you out here for ten minutes, doctor's orders," the nurse chirped.

Bruce eyed her with irritation. "I'm cold."

She cocked an eye at him. "I overheard you tell Miss Asher that you have quite the tolerance for cold weather. This isn't perchance an attempt to make me bring you inside, Mr. Highland?"

He huffed a breath and put his hands on the tops of the wheels.

"Oh, no you don't." The nurse stopped the chair from moving with her foot. "You didn't get out yesterday with me. I think this is why you're not yourself."

"Not my-"

"You brood, or so Cat says," she muttered.

"Cat," Bruce said slowly. _Miss Kyle_?

"Mmhmm. She had an errand to run." The nurse frowned at him. "Do you remember my name today, Mr. Highland?"

"Do I...do I have more notes to go over?" He frowned back. Surely there was more to this story he didn't remember, more to know than what he'd already written down in his notebook. It didn't tell him what happened, or how he got here. He had to have other notes...somewhere.

"What's my name?"

"I must have more notes. Where are they?"

"If you can remember my name, I will give you what you want."

"I _do_ have more notes," he said sharply. "I would like to see them, please."

"I can tell you all that you need to hear, Thomas."

Her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. He needed Selina, even more than the other notes the nurse hid from him. Bruce inched the chair forward as far as he could, his blood boiling by the second when the nurse refused to budge. "Move. Your. Foot."

She narrowed his eyes at him. "No."

Bruce blinked, frustrated that he felt sluggish and, strangely enough, like he was sitting in a furnace, not outside in the middle of winter.

"I just want to go inside," he said quietly. He didn't want to harm this woman, but if it was necessary, he'd no choice but to react with his instincts.

She shook her head. "Why can't you remember one simple name?" She muttered, looking at him in a way that sent a chill down his spine.

He felt ill, maybe even feverish, his side burned from some injury he couldn't remember receiving, and his weakened, aching knees probably wouldn't hold his weight. He wasn't certain about the latter, but he assumed since his knees pained him severely without standing he'd have a difficult time running away from this woman. Did he have enough strength to overtake her? Probably not, but he'd improvise.

"I know what you're thinking, Thomas. It's in your eyes."

Before he could stop her, she pushed his chair back into a corner and grabbed one of his knees, digging painfully around his knee cap with her fingers. Pain swept from his most injured knee down his leg, leaving him breathless. A groan slipped from his throat. He reached for her, wanting to stop her before she did anything else, but he didn't get far. The nurse firmly pushed down his wrist. His breath caught in his chest, realizing he merely attempted to tug away from her grasp, so limp was his hand. He barely managed to push against her with his other arm when he couldn't keep it up for his fatigue. He realized when he couldn't gather the strength to escape her grasp that she'd already compromised his health, perhaps with the very medication she gave him right before they went outside. Had she given him a muscle relaxer...or something else? Her fingers twisted around his knee again, bringing another flair of incredible pain and a spasm. He tamped down another groan, glaring at her and refusing to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she'd hurt him. Enraged, he managed to lift his arm up again, but only to have his hand settle on her arm as weakly as before.

"You can't run, and you have nowhere to hide, Mr. Highland." The nurse practically sung the words. It was then he noticed the gleam of a needle from underneath her hand. "Absolutely nowhere."


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Oh, you guys are lucky. Just plain lucky. :-) I wasn't sure what you would think of the last chapter. Writing in a big cliffhanger, and then not knowing what the response would be, was my very own cliffhanger! Lol. And now that I know, I'm game for posting another chapter so soon. Gordios79 asked me a question concerning villains. Well, this chapter may have your answer, although a bit vague for now! And I'm still holding on to the ending scenes in the TDKR. I know you may be wondering how in the world I'm going to get us there...I will. I promise. I love that relationship with Gordon/Batman, too...and Alfred...oh, don't get me started. Of course we'll see him in this story. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

* * *

Bruce preferred the chirpy, flirtatious nurse the woman played just minutes ago to this smug, frightful woman she'd suddenly become. It seemed too simple, hardly an attack aggressive enough to harm anyone but she knew where he was most vulnerable. His knees. The part of him he'd never repaired so that he'd forever endure the pain and reminder of his loss and failure. He'd been a fool to never get them fixed but he'd mourned and followed the ghost of a woman he thought he'd loved with those knees.

With the nurse's hands on both of his knees now, twisting and clutching, his pain heightened to an agonizing level and darkness crowded his vision. Grimacing, Bruce tenaciously hung on to his memory of Selina. He focused on her, yet another ghostly woman who quite possibly could be only a figment of his imagination. He had to remain conscious. If he passed out, he'd no chance to defend himself.

The nurse dug into his knees harder, lips curving up to a malicious smile when her aggression provoked a groan. Sweat poured off his face as he hunched forward and gripped the sides of his chair, his knuckles white and teeth clenched to hold himself together.

"Don't you see? You have nowhere to run. You can't run. All you have to do is say my name, Thomas." She let go of one knee. Her eyes glittered and pulled him in but then the needle pricking the skin on his arm called his attention. Her fingers stilled, not yet coursing the contents through his body. "Say my name."

"I don't know your name," he gritted as he slowly found himself losing to the spreading darkness. "I...can't...remem...remember."

"Say it, Thomas." she hissed in his ear, twisting her fingers around his kneecap like a snake coils around its prey. He jolted to attention.

"I don't..." He paused, crying out as the needle pushed through. Her fingers pressed down on the needle entirely. Shocked, he snapped his eyes up to hers. The empty needle clattered to the floor.

_No_.

"I didn't want to do this again, but I see I have no choice," she murmured, her hand releasing its formidable grip on his knee. His body slumped in his chair, relaxed for the first time since he'd been in the presence of the nurse. "Now, tell, me Thomas. Who is it you were wanting to see?"

Her face lingered near his with a triumphant expression. She whispered with the tempered voice of her profession but her eyes told him otherwise. She was evil - to him and to his memory. "Tell me her name, Thomas."

Her hands brushed his cheeks and ruffled once through his hair. He closed his eyes, imagining Selina - the seductive way she moved each time she'd stolen from him, the kiss he perhaps merely imagined that she'd given him, the journal.

"Say it."

"Selina," he hoarsely whispered, hating when the name fell uncontrollably from his lips. "Cat."

"Good. I paid them good for what I've given you, at least I've bartered well, and it better not go to waste." The nurse patted him on the shoulder.

"Them?"

"I can't tell you that, Thomas," she tsked, stroking him on the cheek again.

"I won't remember...or did you forget?" He rasped, hoping he could buy time by keeping her talking.

She chuckled, but it was without humor. "Who knew you were such a smart mouth. Now, I'll know it's gone to waste if you can remember her name in..."

She checked her watch.

"One minute."

"You're...very timely," he said tiredly.

"Of course. You see, Thomas, you do have this short term memory problem but I've just enhanced it. Controlled it, if you will. That's why things have worked out so well."

"No, please," he whispered, something cold and wet drifting down his cheek. "Where is Cat?"

"You poor thing," she murmured, stroking his face as the cold and wet feeling wouldn't stop. "It's already started. Who do you need?"

He frowned at her. "Cat...please. I need her." He blinked, realizing tears leaked from his eyes as an overwhelming sadness filled his heart. "Am I...crying?" _What had she done?_

"Yes, Mr. Highland. Look on the bright side. I'm going to allow you say her name over and over for the rest of that one minute. Unfortunately, you will continue to weep, just as you are doing now. You will find yourself unable to speak her name again, for you will watch her name disappear from your mind in horror and then long for something you don't even remember," she hissed. "Then, perhaps you will finally have the consideration to remember my name."

"You're insane." He bit his lip and then his tongue. Bruce silently begged for Selina. He knew from the past how these mind games worked. He could only hope that this drug was one that he'd built up to an immunity to, but considering he'd already succumbed to some of the effects, that was doubtful. He knew he didn't have the physical or mental stamina to fake anything consistently and this woman knew it, as well...

..._but he had no other choice._

"Some have said that in the past," she smiled, not looking the least bit offended. "Now, say her name."

* * *

"Commissioner Gordon, sir."

_Ah, yes. _His secretary ushered the two newest additions to the GCPD into his office. "Shelly and Maverick?"

Gordon set aside his pen, welcoming the intrusion from his pile of paperwork that he wasn't able to focus on anyways. Gordon's focus crashed the second he'd stepped in City Hall earlier that morning. He'd tried to work this past hour, holing himself away in his office, but nothing - not even Selina Kyle visiting Wayne's grave - cleared away the cloud hanging over him.

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison. Maverick stepped forward, holding a file.

Gordon pushed his glasses up on his nose as he stared at them. "I was told you had something pretty important to run by me."

"We think it is important." Shelly said, obviously the meeker of the two. "It remains to be seen if you do."

"Very well," Gordon murmured. He glanced at the names, lifting his eyes in question. "These are all the names of those we found not two weeks ago in the tunnels." Including Douglas Fredericks.

"They are." Maverick shifted on his feet.

Gordon returned to the rest of their notes, pausing when a third party's handwriting came into the mix. He knew that handwriting.

"You see, sir, they're all connected. All but two - the ones circled in red - are family members of those controlled by the lingering mob in Gotham City or accused of running with the mob at some point."

"The mob was mostly hung out to dry before everyone in Blackgate was released, courtesy of Bane." Gordon sighed. Although, inevitably the mob had reorganized themselves during Bane's occupation.

"But this...this is about drug trafficking and money. Bigger money tied to something we can't figure out."

Gordon looked at Maverick doubtfully.

"Well, my cousin believes that part. He says it's obvious because of who the lists points to. You can see what he means..." Maverick leaned over and shuffled through a few more papers, pointing at last to another document. "Here."

Gordon and a select few in the department weren't in the dark about the trafficking. Rumors trickled in just a week ago. So much happened since Batman saved Gotham - it was at the bottom of the list, sadly. "The one who wrote the rest of these notes?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, John Blake is your cousin." He missed the young man's presence. "How is he?"

"Not sure." Maverick frowned. "I haven't seen him much and he only talked to me long enough to explain this so we could bring it to you."

Gordon rubbed his jaw. John had avoided him, not that he blamed him. Gordon understood the loss - it was devastating. Had been devastating and still was. Gordon hadn't felt like being around people let alone converse with them, either.

"Good detectives run in the family." Gordon murmured and tipped his head down at the file once more. Gotham could not lose her most evil criminals. It was obvious now seeing that they almost succeeded in killing these people slowly in hiding. "And the two names on this list who didn't match up?"

"Dead. As of two hours ago. Shot in their homes."

Gordon stood up, agitated. He hadn't heard about that yet.

And those other names...innocent people...the trafficking.

Hadn't Gotham been through enough?

Gordon's breath caught, remembering the excited chatter of a little girl holding a pink journal.

_Fredericks_.

* * *

Other than a quick glance, Selina ignored the man on the bed whose eyes were closed in a faked sleep, not that Nurse Beth knew what Bruce was doing. The master of masks performed well, even in his crippled, memory impaired state. Selina played along, having entered the room and read his body language immediately. Had the sick feeling not settled in her stomach that this meant something was seriously wrong, she'd be thoroughly enjoying herself.

"I brought his lunch," Selina merely said, setting the tray on the small bedside table.

Nurse Beth frowned at the clock on the wall. It was well past Bruce's appointed lunch time, and Leslie wanted them to stay on schedule. "I thought you were going to be back at least half an an hour ago."

Selina refused to apologize that she'd been also late getting Bruce's protein shake to him today. Visiting Gordon had not been easy and it had taken her a little while to decompress before she returned to see Bruce.

"Should we awaken him?" Selina asked instead.

Nurse Beth shook her head. "No, poor man. He was uncomfortable. Dr. Thompkins preferred for me to give him a sedative for the rest of the day instead."

"Did he complain earlier of much pain?" Nurse Beth's comments confused her. Ten minutes ago, Leslie had mentioned no such thing to Selina.

"He was very quiet while you were gone. You know how Thomas is around anyone but you, but he nodded when I mentioned a migraine." Nurse Beth said, a compassionate expression on her face. "I was so relieved to see him relax after I gave him that sedative."

Nurse Beth left her explanation at that and walked briskly to the door.

"I have other patients to attend to, but please let me know if he needs anything."

Selina wasted no time to lock the door behind the nurse and return to Bruce's side. She hesitated to place her hand on his arm, for a second fearing that he really was asleep and this was all made up in her mind. He did look asleep, so utterly still and relaxed. It disconcerted Selina that she could read him so well.

"Bruce. She's gone. You can stop playing possum now," she said dryly.

Lines of tension built up in his shoulders, running down through his arms. His muscles bulged under the thin cotton shirt and his hands clenched the covers. One catheter in his hand was displaced ever so slightly, hinting that was how Bruce had avoided the sedative Nurse Beth had given him. Selina waited. He had heard her but would not open his eyes.

"Bruce." She softened her tone. "It's okay. You can talk to me. She's gone."

Selina jolted back when his eyes flew open, flitting wildly to the ceiling and to her. He inhaled deeply, but exhaled an even longer, torturous breath with the same wide, unfocused eyes.

She placed a hand on his chest. "It's okay. Bruce, what's-"

"I'm going to be sick," he whispered and promptly leaned his head over to the other side of the bed, losing the contents of his stomach on the floor.

Selina grasped his arms as he faltered forward, head and half his body dangling off his bed.

"Don't," he rasped.

"Bruce, you're going to slide off this bed if I don't keep a grip on you."

"No. _Don't_ leave me alone with that woman _ever_ _again_."

She swore, pulling him up as fast as she could. "What did she do?"

"You're hurting me," Bruce groaned, his face now muffled against the sheets.

"I'm so sorry," she said, horrified when she realized she'd been twisting and pulling like a maniac in her anger. She let go slowly, afraid to help him to return to lay on his back. "What...what do you want me to do?" She already lifted up his shirt to inspect his wound, breathing a sigh of relief seeing it'd not been ripped open.

"Keep her away." The whimper-like groan that accompanied his command, so uncharacteristic of the man she'd been caring for, let alone watched stand up to Bane, frightened her like nothing else.

He panted on his stomach, arms spread out and one cheek pressed on the top of the covers, looking like the ever-exhausted, savior of Gotham that he had been for days. His pitiful state pulled her closer - and not just in the physical sense - and she took a few even breaths before placing her hand gently on his back.

"Does your back hurt?" Her hand made slow circles on his back for a moment, satisfied that he finally caught his breath and the muscles that her fingers massaged gradually relaxed.

"Will you keep her away?"

"What did she do?" She pulled her chair to where Bruce could see her as he lay prostrate. "What do you last remember?"

"Will you keep her...away from me," he pleaded.

She blinked, realizing she had to meet his current need that yes, she would, before he could move on and process anything she had to ask or say.

"Yes, Bruce.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I don't know what she did, I was laying in bed when she had to tell me where I was. That Batman saved Gotham. That I have memory issues. I felt...threatened even then. I read a few things in a journal - I saw the name, Cat, scrawled in hastily by the word, friend. So I hoped that it meant you were here helping me, but I wasn't sure. I began to ask about you but she took the journal from me, telling me I needed to rest. I knew I didn't trust her...and...and then...my instincts kicked in."

"That's why you played possum and avoided the sedative." Selina furrowed her brow. "Do you remember anything else at all?"

"Being helpless." He blinked at her. "I remember the distinct feeling of being helpless and incredible sadness."

"Do you think she harmed you in any way?" Selina thought so. What else would explain Bruce faking to be asleep? Throwing up of his own accord, and not from a migraine? Asking Selina to keep her away without truly knowing why?

"Yes." His jaw clenched. "I do."

"Without proof, we're limited."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I know."

"We can't make her suspicious. And, sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Wayne, but you're in no position to fight her."

"I know I can't, but you can."

"You don't know how happy it makes me to hear you say that." Selina sighed.

He began to chuckle but stopped abruptly with a groan and curse.

"Your back is hurting you."

He nodded, eyes still squeezed shut.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"I know you didn't. It's okay. I think..." His eyes opened to reveal the warm depths she craved. "I think I should get off of my stomach. The pain is getting worse."

She quietly helped roll him on his back. He arched his back, face twisting while his body painfully settled to its new position. She'd been thoughtless, reacting with her anger. And now - the fact that she caused him more pain was almost too much.

"I'll get Leslie. You need..." She swallowed. _Knee surgey. Back surgery. A new body._ "...medicine."

"Tell her about...the nurse...and...make sure I know before you set it up. So I can be ready to avoid a kick in the head or being knocked out of my bed." He said with a wry grin.

"And how do you know what it is that I'm planning?"

"Well, I'm the bait, aren't I? And I know it's going to be virtually impossible for me to help you because of my memory issues...and this." He waved his hand down at his body, then narrowed his eyes at her. "All I ask is that you don't hurt her too badly."

Selina arched an eyebrow. "Mr. Wayne, you're being way too presumptuous."

He sent her a dark look. "Selina, I don't know what she did and even if I did know, she doesn't deserve to receive more harm than what is necessary to keep her from acting again." He hesitated. "We'll need to involve the police for when you take her in, if need be, but they can't know I'm here. But it makes sense to see if Gordon...wait, he doesn't know I'm here, does he?"

"No," she said.

"You're thinking of telling him."

"It may be best, Bruce, for him to be here if we need help, if only to keep your secret from the police."

"Please, don't tell him Bruce Wayne is alive. I'm a burden to enough people."

"I am capable of handling this on my own but to be safe-"

"If possible, please, Selina, please don't involve him. At least don't involve him before you have her apprehended and I'm out of sight."

"You're incredibly stubborn."

"That has worked to my benefit on several occasions, believe it or not." He smiled lazily.

"You know you're going to have to trust me again."

"Have I trusted you since you came to the clinic?"

"Yes. Each and every time you remember or discover that I am here." Amazement washed over her once more that he'd been so consistently forgiving. "Will you trust me with this? Will you trust that I'll do what I can? But do you understand that I can't make promises to you that I can't keep when it comes to your safety?"

She waited with bated breath. She laid more out for him to see than her sense of guilt - her affection for him. Besides that, she had absolutely no right to ask him to put this much faith in her.

"Yes. I know what you're saying and I will trust you," Bruce said, his expression revealing his confidence and something else she'd never expected from a man - worry for her. "And please, be careful. We don't know what she's capable of."

_Yes, they did_, Selina silently mused. Nurse Beth was capable of scaring Batman out of his wits, and that meant she had to pay.


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce kept his hands hidden under the blanket, his face as neutral as possible, and the silken mask Selina Kyle had worn at the masquerade ball between his fingers.

"Do you remember my name, today?" The nurse asked.

"Like I said before, I remember nothing of the past two weeks. I'm sorry."

Her smile faltered. That didn't surprise him. He'd recognized her false cheeriness the instant she wheeled him through the hallway outside the patio doors. She'd slipped then, seeing Miss Kyle from a distance down the hall. The hard, cruel eyes narrowing at Miss Kyle ushered in his wariness and even more confusion about his predicament.

"Thomas. My _name_." The nurse scowled.

Bruce sifted through what the nurse told him and other things he knew for a fact, creating as simplified of a master list as he possibly could. He was at the clinic because he'd been injured. Bane was no longer a threat. Batman had died. The nurse seemed oblivious to his dual identities. Miss Kyle ignored him for that brief minute in the hallway.

Except that Miss Kyle _hadn't_ ignored him, and she wanted him to know that.

He held her sign the same as he would his mother's pearls - with a reverence he himself couldn't even fathom. Two women, both masked, and the one who he knew with a certainty betrayed him before was the one he trusted now. This other, she was a wild card Bruce wasn't sure he wanted fully explained. Her stance changed during the growing silence. She stood as if burdened with the weight of some great cause resting on her shoulders. Maybe it was him and the fact that he failed to recall her name. He should answer the woman. He was being rude. But all he wanted was to understand the meaning of Selina Kyle's message.

"Are you in pain, Thomas?"

_Thomas_.

"No." Bruce stared down at his lap, remembering the times Selina kept this mask close. She'd worn various disguises for Bruce - this very one for Batman - but what about now?

"Hmm." The nurse walked right past him.

Bruce frowned and turned his head.

_Click_.

He crumpled the mask in his fist and stood to his feet with every last ounce of his strength. One hand on the wheelchair to steady himself, he took one feeble step away.

And found he could barely hold his broken body together to remain standing. His ability to defend himself from a woman who just locked the door, his only means of escape, had diminished to almost nothing. A back brace he'd no memory of putting on limited his movement and his knees felt brittle, as if they couldn't labor under any additional weight, not even a feather.

He was trapped. In more ways than one.

"Have you remembered my name yet, Thomas? No? We have some time. I think you'll be able to figure it out, Mr. Highland." The nurse stood in front of the locked door, her condescending expression foreboding. "Except, I don't recommend you do what you're doing...at all."

She moved swiftly, coming the few feet to him before he could force his body to cooperate. When it did, he wavered, and would have fallen had it not been her hands which steadied him.

"Get your hands off me," he quietly ordered, with sweat sliding off his face and the trembling of one crippled and suffering.

"If I do," she smiled all too smugly, all too similar to the smiles of the insane men and women Batman encountered over the years. "You'll fall."

"What do you want?"

With a grimace he couldn't contain, Bruce slowly straightened his posture. He stared down at her, considering all the possibilities when something pinched his arm.

Emotion struck him in the eyes...the chest...his heart. "What...did you..."

"Is something bothering you, Mr. Highland?"

"I..." Despairingly, he looked at her in confusion.

"I know you miss her, but it's no use. Cat isn't here."

"Cat." He strangled out the name. _Cat_. Cat was Miss Kyle, wasn't she?

"You're going to forget her very soon, and then you'll feel better, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," purred a voice from behind the nurse.

The nurse jerked her head around, her face turning to stone at Miss Kyle's sudden appearance. Seeing it as the only opportunity he had, Bruce reacted instantly. He twisted the mask and its ties around the woman's wrists and when her head turned back around, he was already done and out of the way.

The wind knocked out of him, Bruce grunted in pain. His back, shoulder, and side screamed from the brunt fall, but his body in its entirety felt something much worse than the impact. Desperation that he was losing something so precious he'd never regain it if he tried. He gritted his teeth. What he felt wasn't natural. It was loss, so deep it cut him in his very soul. He gasped again, overcome the realization that soon, he'd not remember any of this and he'd be forced to start at the beginning all over again. It wouldn't be so bad, for the fact that Miss Kyle was saving his life, but the last memory of her that he had was very much the opposite. How did they come to this point?

He glanced towards the movement on his right. Selina, clad in the black suit he remembered, launched an artfully high kick. The other woman stumbled back but returned to the fight more skillfully than expected for a woman whose hands were bound in front of her. Darkness crept nearer and the lines blurred between the two women. He felt a hand on his shoulder. As shocking as that was, the touch comforted him - until he saw Selina receive a blunt hit to her face.

"Stay down," the person behind him whispered, pressing on his shoulder. "She'll be fine."

_Gordon?_

Bruce barely managed to huff an exasperated breath, knowing he was losing consciousness fast. Selina growled and surged forward to catch the woman between the wall and her heeled boot.

Bruce smiled faintly. _Miss Kyle had come back_, he thought before the darkness enveloped him fully. In fact, she had everything under control.

* * *

When Miss Kyle forfeited her hiding spot, Gordon resorted to their second plan immediately. Selina had told Bruce to stay in his chair. He hadn't and that meant his memory of his talk with Miss Kyle not fifteen minutes earlier had vanished. Worse, that meant they'd been forced to wait.

And wait far too long.

But Bruce inevitably acted as Batman, tying the woman's hands together with that mask he'd held in his hands. Gordon applauded him silently. His friend hadn't lost his instincts.

"What have you been doing to him?" Miss Kyle hissed, driving the woman further against the wall. Nurse Beth flinched as Miss Kyle's heel brought blood. Cuffs ready, Gordon approached after checking Bruce's condition. He was relatively fine, now out cold and probably bruised from his fall, but Dr. Thompkins was on her way.

Nurse Beth, hair disheveled and blinking widely, licked her bruised and bloodied mouth. "I won't apologize for anything I've done. It was for the best."

"The best for whom?"

"Him. Me."

"He has been through enough. What did you do? Did you create his memory loss?"

Nurse Beth's lips slanted upwards into a sinister grin. Gordon suppressed a shiver. "You would like to think that, wouldn't you. That I was the cause? That getting rid of me will rid Thomas of his stunted memory. Sorry to disappoint."

"You enhanced it? Why?"

"I was at the right place at the right time."

"What do you mean? That this may be part of something else, not just what you did for kicks? What did you do?"

The nurse's face closed.

"You're a monster," Miss Kyle said coldly.

"I did help him, Miss Asher," the nurse's face transformed, looking so meek that Gordon would've been apt to give her the benefit of a doubt hadn't he just seen a taste of her terror. He couldn't imagine what Bruce had endured the past two weeks, on top of his other injuries. "You know I did. I've cared for him every day since he was admitted. All I wanted was for him to know my name, to make sure he'd be safe."

"Safe? From what? You preyed upon his weaknesses and you'll pay." Miss Kyle hissed, drawing more blood.

"Miss Asher," Gordon warned.

With a reluctant release of her heel, Selina stepped aside. Gordon added the cuffs to Nurse Beth's already bound hands. She didn't struggle, merely cast her gaze aside vacantly. Dr. Thompkins scurried out onto the patio to check the still, broken form on the ground. Gordon untied the black mask from the nurse's hands and handed it with care to Miss Kyle.

"I can handle this from here, Miss Asher." He indicated his head towards Bruce. "I believe your priority is with this man. You did the best thing to contact me."

Miss Kyle clenched her jaw, eyes showing a hint of remorse. "It may have been the best thing, but it wasn't what he wanted."

Later, after taking Nurse Beth to the station and beginning to pull every string he could to protect Bruce's identity entirely, he'd returned. It fit his cover, also, as searching for the patient that fled after receiving horrific care by the hand of Nurse Beth. As a witness, Gordon had been to the clinic earlier to talk to Douglas Fredericks and so happened to see the incident. Back at the clinic, Gordon found that Bruce had been moved to another corridor during a fire drill, one occupied with few patients. They'd no choice but to also change his alias to help cover their tracks. While Bruce was heavily medicated for his aggravated injuries, and therefore sedated for the rest of the day, Gordon continued his conversation with Miss Kyle.

"Do you honestly believe that he didn't think you'd plan it this way?" Gordon half-smiled, shaking his head. "It was the only way for everything to go right and for your safety to be guaranteed, even if things happened to go wrong, which it did."

"You're saying he doesn't want us to explain this to him."

"No, I don't believe he does. We let him heal and naturally come to his own conclusions."

"If we do that," Miss Kyle hesitated.

Gordon nodded, agreeing with her unspoken observation.

_Gordon may not come face to face with his friend for a long, long time._

"I'm sorry." Her eyes now flowed with regret.

"Don't be. If it's the best for him, I will wait patiently. He'll contact me...eventually." Gordon's certainty grew. Batman had never failed him, not even in the worst of circumstances. He wouldn't start now. It was clearer than ever to Gordon that Bruce had come to a conclusion. Somehow, deep inside where instincts collided with the vaguest of memories, Bruce knew that he had some sort of plan he failed to implement after his escaped from the bomb. Bruce wanted...no, he _needed_ the freedom to realize it for himself. At the very least, his friends would wait patiently. Besides, Gordon had enough on his plate to keep his mind busy and away from self-pity. "In his own time and in his own way. He'll let me know."

* * *

The horror of Nurse Beth behind her but not forgotten, Selina waited on tenterhooks for the next opportunity to talk with Leslie. The week had been full of discoveries, beginning with Bruce expressing his wish to leave Batman and Gotham behind and not ending with Bruce's agreement to see a trauma specialist. She hated to even think about Nurse Beth's deception two days ago, but it was clear that the nurse had done more harm than good. How much further along with his therapy would Bruce be had it not been for the nurse's jealousy and desire to keep Bruce trapped under her thumb, Selina thought with disgust. That nurse was beyond help and deserved to be put into Arkham.

Selina moved onto a thought slightly less formidable. It was obvious to Selina that Bruce's larger-than-life plan included leaving Gotham, but to hear him utter those words himself was an entirely different matter. Leslie had heard him say it in so many words, but Selina had not.

_I'm moving on. I have to. I want to leave it behind- and Gotham._

Selina wondered to what extent she should question Bruce about his desire to leave. For hours throughout the day as Bruce weaved in and out of his memories, she alternated between two choices: being completely truthful with him or allowing the conversations to blossom the way they would on their own. She hated hiding things from him, including the hard he'd endured under the care of Nurse Beth. But with the direction of Leslie, she kept her mouth shut.

But this...wouldn't this help him to remember? Should she have asked him to write down what he told her? Obviously, Bruce wished to leave this city behind, yet Bruce was living on his own time and in his own world and he could not see it...nor could he act upon his own desires in his current state of health. Selina's instincts told her not to press him, so she didn't. Her heart told her not to yet, either, but for selfish reasons alone. He may wish to leave this city, but he may wish to leave this city alone.

Selina observed him across the several feet of space separating them. The window ledge wasn't entirely comfortable, but it was a darn good vantage of Bruce Wayne in bed- or seated in his chair- without being too obvious that was what she was doing. With Nurse Beth gone - or, rather, fired, told to never set foot near the clinic ever again, receiving psychiatric help, and facing charges - Leslie allowed Bruce to forgo his disguise for a short while he was in his new room.

Selina could not tear her eyes away him. His own hair had grown longer, not quite to his shoulders, but it looked natural on him. Currently, he reclined in the bed, still using the back brace to provide him some level of comfort. He'd received a visit from a chiropractor, but Leslie still could not convince Bruce to agree to surgery. For now, wearing the brace for a short period of time or whenever he needed it would have to do. And his knees...Leslie was certain Nurse Beth provoked the damage an x-ray revealed yesterday. The braces were coming but most importantly, he was finally getting the rest he needed for his body to heal.

Selina sighed. How could a man look impossibly sexy crunching words with that broken body of his? Selina observed him freely, consumed as he was with a crossword puzzle for the past hour. It was a breakthrough worth sharing- this being the first time Bruce sat absorbed in any single task for such a length of time. It was slow progress. He took his time reading and filling in his answers, but Selina had no doubt that this breakthrough would not have occurred if Nurse Beth still had a grip on Bruce's health.

Bruce rubbed his jaw in concentration. Selina sent a text to Leslie, urging her to come observe before it was too late.

"What's a three letter word for the nickname of a stealthy, rooftop burglar?" He deadpanned, eyes still down at his puzzle.

"Fun," she sighed.

"Do you miss stealing?" He peered up at her.

She missed the thrill it had once before given her, and she'd already returned the jewel earrings immediately after Gordon found Fredericks. But only because it hadn't been as thrill seeking as she'd thought. Truly, it had been a cheap thrill to irritate the nurse who irritated her. However, Nurse Beth bent over backwards to help Bruce with his migraines. At the time, Selina couldn't ignore that. Now, of course, she wished she had. "No. I have found that lately that it doesn't amuse me like it once did. Could be the company I've been keeping."

Bruce's smile reached his eyes. He moistened his lips with his tongue, staring now at her mouth, and for a fleeting moment, Selina wondered if he was going to ask for a kiss. But, no. He hesitated, cleared his throat, offering a rasping _that's good,_ and returned to his puzzle. Selina sighed, wondering why she was so content guarding and watching this man work as he solitarily worked his way through a puzzle all in the name of therapy.

Leslie arrived sooner than Selina expected. "How long?" The doctor whispered.

"An hour." Selina bit her lip, appalled at her strong emotions. Over a man, albeit an incredibly good-looking and mysterious man, successfully filling in blank puzzle spaces.

"This is good. Really good," Leslie murmured. "I didn't expect to see this from him so soon. All he needed was to be far away from Nurse Beth. That woman...I'm so sorry I didn't know from the start what she was truly like."

"She was beyond infatuated with him, yet did somewhat care for his needs. Honestly, I don't understand it at all," Selina said in a low voice. Nurse Beth's comments about Bruce's safety haunted her ever since. Gordon kept her up to speed, but so far, Nurse Beth was without a name, nothing correctly matching up to her prints. Neither had the nurse spoken much at all since her arrest She refused to speak about the incident, save her acceptance of the charges. Still, it was a delicate situation with Bruce's identity on the line but Gordon assured her to not worry.

"The mind is a complicated thing," Leslie said. "We may never know why."

"Leslie, a few days ago Bruce mentioned his desire to leave and Gotham behind him."

"Don't press him. It may be too much right now. We don't know yet what trauma lingers. This, Selina, is what we should focus on- small steps, simple and-"

"He agreed to see a specialist, even if it meant flying," Selina smoothly interrupted, wanting to see the doctor's reaction. Even if his memory returned day by day, the doctor mentioned her extreme concern for his migraines.

Leslie beamed. "It's a beautiful day."

It was, and then, just like that, Bruce's concentration folded and Selina's hope crashed. Bruce, clearly distraught to be in an unfamiliar environment, hastily dropped his pencil and the paper he'd diligently worked on his lap. He stared down, his breathing erratic.

"Don't let this get you down, Selina," Leslie whispered before approaching Bruce. "You don't need that, and neither does he. It's only been two days since he's been away from her...he needs a little bit of time."

Leslie eased herself into the chair beside Bruce, smiling softly. Brow furrowed, Bruce listened without saying a word until the doctor finished informing him of his condition.

"I don't remember any of that, or how I-" Bruce's gaze swept the room, but when his eyes fully rested on Selina he stopped. "Miss Kyle."

Bruce spoke from behind a veil of formality. In spite of that indifference, she reveled in his previously shown affection and vowed to show him she meant him no harm. "Bruce."

Perhaps it was the way she imagined caressing his hand and cheek the same way she caressed his name. Or, perhaps it was the way she offered a smile in her very best effort to show him how she pledged herself to his care.

She held out to Bruce a glimpse of a hesitant but burgeoning affection once more. In return, she discovered something stirred in his heart despite the missing, more fulfilling memories he had of her.

"Selina." Bruce stared at her as if he didn't believe his eyes. "I'm...are you...I..."

"I think you've left him speechless," Leslie smiled.

He flushed, leaving Selina breathless and annoyed with herself. Who was she? An infatuated teenage girl or nurse, minus the crazy?

"No," he took a deep breath. "I'm glad to see you. Although, I won't lie - I don't know why you decided to help me, considering how we last parted."

"I don't know what to say," she murmured quietly, standing her ground and willing her feet to remain firmly planted before Bruce.

He shouldn't matter so much to her, but he did. She shouldn't have allowed herself to come this far, but she had. She couldn't explain why she had done that, either. Maybe part of her didn't want to understand. It burned that he could only remember her as thief and the woman who betrayed him to Bane. It didn't matter to her that he couldn't recall how she saved his life or that she'd helped him save Gotham. What hurt most was that he couldn't remember how he'd held her and kissed her. How they talked, learning about one another without clinging to their shared, troubled past. The way they worked so well together, more compatible than she'd ever thought possible she could work with anyone. It hurt because she wanted more - maybe a day of the completely healed Bruce Wayne. _Just a day_, she told herself. To see him healthy and carefree. A day, she reminded herself, to see that she'd done her part.

_But a single day wouldn't be enough. _

"I know." His eyes were kind and gentle. "But I do know what to say. Truth be told, Miss Kyle, I've missed you."

* * *

**Author's Not**e: Thought it better to add this note down here after Selina took care of things. And Gordon - poor guy. He really is a good friend. The action that I mentioned for Bruce? This chapter wasn't it. Never fear, I wouldn't trick you like that! So, we're nearing one of my favorite chapters, one with some sweet moments and a broadening of our setting. Especially now that we're moving along and you're starting to get a little taste (maybe) of the bigger picture. Bruce's big breakthrough? It may come in some future chapter with a bang in a moment of desperation - or not. ;0 I love hearing speculation, so keep that coming. It's fun to read your thoughts - especially recently about Nurse Beth. Who is she, really? She was a necessary evil...truly, she was/is, as you'll find out. I don't like her, either. I think of all the bad guy characters I've written, she's right near the top. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's**** Note: **I am grateful to have faithful readers - you give me great things to ponder as I read your comments. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Well, this chapter lets things...simmer. I like to think Bruce and Selina are closer to being honest with themselves and with each other, even with Bruce's hardships in the way. And this chapter will help that along.

Maybe I should have suggested this in an earlier chapter, but you can look up Douglas Fredericks to match a face to the name. I believe he's one of handful of named board members in the movies. He made an appearance with a minor part in Batman Begins and TDKR. Also, as I said before, I am using the last scenes of TDKR. That means using Gordon as a character, of course, Fox, and...Blake! Blake will come into play in a couple chapters, and has a significant part in the story to come.

* * *

A dream would have made much more sense but this was a million times better than anything Bruce could ever imagine - skin to skin contact with a woman with whom he felt utterly comfortable but shouldn't.

She was an anomaly, this woman. Miss Kyle slept, sprawled in a chair by his side with her hand wrapped securely around his own. The simple way she held his hand led him to believe that something occurred in their relationship to get them to this point. And he wondered, for it countered his last memory of her but supported his present attraction.

In his other hand were a series of notes informing him that he'd saved Gotham more than three weeks ago and then 'died,' and a friend was helping him regain his memory while he was treated at the clinic. He also received injections for his knees last week and would receive two more yet today, in hopes that some progress would be made with his pain levels. Other notes were necessary but depressing. Alfred was still in the dark. Bruce's injuries prevented him from anything other than using a walker down the hall for short periods of time until his proper knee braces arrived. He opted to believe the handwriting of Leslie and several other more elegantly, handwritten notes he assumed were written by Selina rather than depend on his apparently shortened, crippled memories.

As cliche as it sounded even to him, time stood still. He took in the curve of her cheek, the elegance of her eyelashes, the hair that brushed her shoulders. The things he blessedly did remember. She fascinated him, and as he lay as still as possible, so not to disturb her, he couldn't stop wondering why she stayed.

Another moment passed and the woman's eyes fluttered open. She watched him just as seriously as he watched her. Tit-for-tat.

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "You're awake."

"That's not how you're supposed to charm a girl, Mr. Wayne," Selina stretched and yawned, somehow very much like a feline. Smoothly and intriguing him with every little nuance.

"But I liked watching you sleep," he said honestly. "You're beautiful."

She watched him, eyes still dazed from sleep. "How long have you been awake? You were napping, and I guess...so was I."

He glanced at the clock again. Shortly after four in the afternoon. "Only five minutes, but I caught up with everything. When do we get to work?"

"Work?"

"My therapy." He glanced down at his notes, worried he'd forgotten something else. "Right? It says here that I have to do therapy."

"Pushover," Selina muttered and brought a clipboard from behind her to her lap. "Hand me the notes."

He did, and she moved her lips while quietly reading the first part to herself. He tapped his fingers on the bedtray in front of him.

"Black looks good on you," he offered, noticing, not for the first time, the long black sweater over black leggings, hugging her all around the right places. She looked good. Too good. "In fact, I-"

"Mr. Wayne."

It was a command to be quiet. Unused to being told what to do from someone other than Alfred, Bruce sat in brief, stunned silence. But he had nothing to do but watch her, and Bruce couldn't help but continue describing how she entranced him. At the very least, it gave him more to think about than his despairing and current lot in life.

"If you keep moving your lips like that, I may have to kiss you this time. That'd make it our..." He frowned. Second kiss? His heart flipped as he remembered. He had kissed Selina. Here. Not this room, but in the clinic. Quite passionately. "Third kiss. Selina, we kissed...here at the clinic. But not in this room. I'm in a different room? Why?"

"Bruce!" Selina's eyes snapped up to his, and if he hadn't been as skilled as he was at reading people, he'd never noticed the glimmer of fear reflected from their depths. "I can't say. Please...Bruce."

Her gaze shifted back to her notes.

"Sorry," he deflated. "I just...I have questions and I don't know what I'm supposed to do to help."

"This," she grabbed three items from the bag on the floor and set them on his tray. "Study these for two minutes and then I'll test you. Leslie won't give you any knee injections until later, so we'll test after we take a short walk. Until then, we need to focus. You've been doing much better with this, stretching your short term memory past an hour or more."

He gave a strangled laugh. "An hour. So this isn't a daily thing. It's..."

"It's improving, that's what it is, Bruce." She smiled. "And we start with this."

He frowned. "Really? A nail file, watch, and pack of cards?"

"Yes."

Bruce almost flinched under her hard stare, getting the impression he was not to give her any trouble about therapy. "But-"

"Do you want to improve your short term memory or not?"

"Yes," he muttered, looking down at the items, feeling not-so-obedient now. He picked up the nailfile. _Boring_. He set it down, irritated. The watch was broken. He moved to the pack of cards, automatically shuffling them once they were in his hands.

"Will you listen already?"

"I am."

"You're playing."

"But I'm studying." He shrugged. "Nailfile. Watch. Cards."

"Say it backwards with your eyes closed."

He closed his eyes. "Cards. Watch..."

_Focus, Wayne. Focus._

"Cards...watch," he bit his lip."Cards...watch...nail...nail file."

He opened his eyes, breathed a sigh of relief he hadn't been wrong, and set the cards down.

"Keep going," Selina urged.

He looked at each item as he was told, repeating the words in his mind until Selina grabbed the file, cards, and watch, putting them safely away in the bag.

"Feel up to eating, Mr. Wayne?"

_Cards, watch, nail file. Cards..._

"Bruce?"

"Hmm?" How was he going to remember these items? The nail file, cards...

"Bruce? Time to eat?"

"Sure." He sighed.

"What's wrong," she asked gently.

"I have a feeling I'm not going to remember those items this time around."

"Yes, you will."

Bruce tightened his mouth. "I'm not hungry after all. Can I-"

"No. You need to eat." Selina's voice rose. "You've lost weight."

"I have?" He looked down and inspected his thinner arms and wrists. She was right. He looked up at her, disgruntled that he couldn't even remember something so basic about himself.

"Bruce, it's fine. It's okay,"

He watched her warily. "It's not."

"It will be. The past week you've actually gained a pound."

"Why was I losing weight?" That was unusual for him, even if he was mostly stuck in bed.

"I think your migraines and..." Selina looked at him cautiously. "Trauma."

"What do you mean?" He hedged. Trauma? What else had happened to him?

"Let's not discuss that now."

"Why not?"

"You don't want to talk about it."

"I don't want to..." He chuckled humorlessly, knowing what she meant but his frustration rising that his memory impairment struck again. "But I do want to talk about it. Now. Doesn't this negate what I said before?"

She shook her head. "Please, don't argue with me, Bruce. You don't want to talk about it. I can get Leslie, and she'll tell you the same thing."

Bruce tried to read between the lines. "If you two are gaining up on me, I suppose this means I won't get an answer...because the answer is nothing good."

"It's not." She stated quietly. "And in order to keep things going smoothly for you as they have been this past week, we need to move on from your question."

"Okay."

She arched an eyebrow. "You're just going to drop it and agree with me. Just like that?"

He shrugged. "I am getting the impression that it's complicated and I don't do complicated very well at this time, if you haven't noticed. So yes, I am just going to drop it and agree."

"Okay, then," she huffed out a short breath. "I'm glad you're so agreeable a patient."

"Yes," he grinned, relief washing over him as he let it go. "Let's eat."

"Good," Selina gave him a short nod. "We'll quiz you soon, after we talk."

"Small talk?"

She stood and walked over to the, grabbing two wrapped sandwiches. She handed him one, and kept the other for herself, taking a very large, very unfeminine bite. Bruce stared at her in open amusement.

"If you want," Selina said after she swallowed the bite of food.

"How's Gordon?"

"What...what do you mean?" Selina's hand stopped mid-air, eyes flickering with panic.

He frowned, confused why she reacted in such a manner. "There was a newspaper article about Batman memorial in my notes."

"Yes."

He hesitated. "Is he alright?"

"I believe him to be," she set down her food. "I visited him that day. And don't worry, your secret is safe."

"You visited him?"

"You asked me to, and I did."

"And you saw Gordon. For me?"

"Oh, don't look so shocked. You read the article of Batman and his masked friend. You saw the photograph."

He knew what she inferred and he was certain of what he saw- she'd stayed to help Batman with the bomb. Something stood in her way of realizing that profound fact, stopping her from seeing herself in a different light. She was like that with many things, he mused. Helping him, for instance. He was certain she'd not take much credit for what she'd done to assist him at the clinic. Something bothered her and although he had a pretty good guess what it was, it wasn't the time to unearth that part of their shared past.

"So, I've talked to him another time or two, before then, Mr. Wayne." She said with an air of indifference. "We're...acquaintances now."

"You," he almost choked on his sandwich. "You and the commissioner. Acquaintances? I'm glad to hear it."

"I brought to his attention a missing persons case."

Bruce stiffened, instantly attaching a name to the missing person. It came as a quickly lit match, bright with flame and out of nowhere. The memory stoked his brain but he could not remember any context. "Fredericks."

Selina shot up in her chair, eyes wide. "Yes. Fredericks. I can't believe...Bruce. This is the third thing you remembered that was not included in your notes. The kiss, this room...Fredericks. Do you remember what happened to him?"

Frustrated, Bruce looked away. "No," he said, disquieted as the memory snuffed itself out, save only the name.

"Don't be hard on yourself. The fact that you remembered that it was Fredericks is remarkable, Bruce."

"Did you find him?"

"Yes. He was locked up with others in Bane's tunnels. But he's here now, at the clinic with his family. His granddaughter has been ill."

"So, because of you," Bruce stressed every word, finding that his frustration lightened. He grinned, now more intrigued than anything. "He was found. You, Selina Kyle, helped save a man life's and in turn, saved his family from heartache."

"Don't look at me line that." Her lips dipped into a slight scowl.

"I bet you gave Gordon quite the shock."

"_I_ gave me quite the shock," Selina muttered under her breath.

"You're finding out what I already knew," he filled his words with compassion. She would not give herself credit - but he would. "You're more than what you think you are. I wish you would see what I see, Miss Kyle."

"And what is that?" Her mouth still set in a sour frown.

"A woman wanting to make a difference and succeeding is good, but there's even more than that. It's the heart," he said softly. "You're seeing life differently, Miss Kyle, because this...helping others...is touching you in a vulnerable place. It's uncomfortable, and I understand."

"I'm adaptable, that's all," she muttered, glancing away. He didn't say anything more, already realizing he may have pushed a little too far. She fiddled with her sandwich as she sat alone in her thoughts. Seeing her distracted, Bruce inched himself to the side of the bed. It was difficult but he grabbed her hand in a simple gesture to display his gratitude.

"Selina," he said softly. She didn't look up. "Thank you."

"I did it for you." Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I wanted to help you. Even if it wasn't you, per se, it was for what you left behind."

"What's left behind is my parents' legacy," he murmured.

"No, you're wrong," Her eyes met his. "It's yours, too. It's Batman's."

He tugged her closer. She came, now standing while he sat on the edge of the bed. Her head bent down. His eyes swept upward to show his gratitude. She watched him, ever vigilantly. Her waist, soft and strong under his hand, bent to his will. _Finally_, Bruce thought.

"Selina." Her hair swept over them both, a soft, luxurious curtain Bruce never wanted to be lifted. Her rich, full lips teased him beyond his reach. He traced her mouth with his eyes, imagining her lips parting, covering them with his own, and delighting himself in a world of Selina Kyle.

"Mr. Wayne," Selina's saucy voice interrupted.

"You're tempting me," he hoarsely whispered. He moved his hands over her hip bone, traveling slowly up with his hands. He lingered below her breasts, knowing he was limited in a very awkward sense in anything he could do. But a little part of him died seeing her before him. Bruce's breath hitched.

"To do what?" She breathed into his ear, pressing her body into his.

_To possess you_, he thought, wrapping his arms around her. He wanted her for himself and thought wildly of the ways in which he could. His face crowded against her chest and it was another emotion which struck him deeper than the last. He hadn't felt this...safe..._or even cared for_...in a long, long time.

Bruce took a staggering breath, crushed. She would leave someday. She'd no true cause to stay and he would never force her. What this was...he didn't know what it was. But it wasn't anything, surely, that would keep her. What if she left before he remembered her part in his recovery? He couldn't offer her anything to keep her here, really. Not yet. But he wanted to, despite being a man who couldn't be depended upon for much of anything. He couldn't even remember what he ate for breakfast, where he was, or even that he saved a city. The only thing he could offer that was a constant was his name, if he was able to use it again someday. _Wayne_. That was a small...no...quite the leap of faith and a crazy thought, besides. He didn't do things like that. _She_ certainly never did.

"Mr. Wayne, breathe." Her hand curved around his neck. How could her mere fingers, stroking along the nape of his neck and now entangled in his hair, leave him feeling this safe? "What is it that you need?"

He reluctantly withdrew his desire for a kiss. What she was doing for him now affected him beyond his expectation. It was enough. For if he lost _this_ memory, the glorious memory of a nurturing and affectionate Selina Kyle, it would leave a tragic crack in his heart.

"This," Bruce managed to say.

* * *

Selina hadn't believed him until she had pulled away after a moment and saw how at ease he seemed to be, with both himself and the world. Even as Leslie came in minutes later to check on Bruce, his smile was intact.

"I'm pleased to see you so cheerful, Bruce," Leslie said before she left. "Selina, don't forget. He walks around today."

"What are you so happy about," Selina muttered after Leslie slipped out the door. She realized she sounded like she woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Truly, she was beside herself that Bruce remembered their kiss and then showed her great affection. It was all she could do to stop herself from reacting.

"Haven't you heard? I get to go exploring."

"Before we go, we should add to your disguise. Here."

She handed him a nondescript ball cap and a worn, gray hoodie as he sat on the edge of the bed. He looked hesitantly at himself dressed in a light-weight t-shirt and cotton pants. "You're certain the black goatee and long hair will do the trick, along with the rest?"

"Yes," she handed him a small mirror. "See for yourself. You're not the Bruce Wayne everyone knew. No one ever saw you with facial hair, remember."

His eyebrows shot up. "I look-"

Before he said the words "pale and gaunt" she chimed in. "Like a drug lord or a teddy bear."

"There's quite a discrepancy between the two," he chuckled.

"We'll go with the teddy bear, then."

He turned the cap backwards on his head before he grasped the handles of the walker. She stared at Bruce, for it took a decade off him and added a layer of light-heartedness she found adorable.

"What?" He said innocently.

"Make sure to not talk with anyone, but if you do, don't use your normal voice." She squirmed inwardly, hating that she found herself responding to him like a teenaged girl with a crush. "Don't go overboard, either, or you'll sound-"

He grinned. "Like the other me?"

His carefree nature extended well into their walk down the hallway, despite the pain he tried to hide.

"You don't have to pretend everything is fine," she said softly as they made their way down the next hallway. The clinic busied around them, and not one person took any care to notice the the painful progress of the patient with the walker.

"I know," he gritted, now for the first time revealing his discomfort. His face held his grimace, but he pushed as she knew he would. Selina grabbed his elbow after they'd begun to make a u-turn. His process had slowed. Selina was certain he was not going to be able to make it without a short respite.

"I hoped today would be better, but I'm not sure it is."

"It...it is..." he huffed.

"You remember doing this before?" Her heart skipped a beat.

"No, but it has to be better, right?" He quipped.

"Let's sit." She indicated her head to the pair of chairs in the hallway. It wasn't a moment too soon. Bruce heaved a sigh and leaned his head back, eyes closed. "Are you alright?"

"Could I have a drink of water?"

Selina kicked herself when she realized she'd left the water bottle she usually took for him in the room. Perspiration lined Bruce's face and his voice held a distinct, dry rasp she assumed came without even trying.

"Sure, handsome," she laid a hand on his arm. Bruce's small tight smile worried her. She wasn't certain he just needed a drink of water. "Don't go anywhere."

"Without you? Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Only a few weeks ago he'd fought the strongest, most brutal man he'd ever come across. Now, Bruce's battle was between his body and a metal walker. It wasn't that this wasn't humbling, because it was. It was also excruciating hard work. But neither of these bothered him. He'd had to recover from a major injury before. Right now, not much bothered him except for his parched throat. Since he'd embraced Selina in his room, Bruce had come to a conclusion. He would take this a day at a time, even if he took it an hour at a time, in reality. Neither he nor Selina could hold a promise up to a flame concerning their relationship. Not even if he desired some promise with every fiber of his being. He'd no right to ask her...for anything.

Bruce wiped the sweat off his brow, dropping his arm when a small form appeared out of nowhere. She was a tiny thing, dressed in a small sized gown from the clinic and pale blue slippers, but a beautiful child. Bruce wasn't certain, but he guessed her age to be around three. It wasn't like he was all that familiar with children, although he wanted at least two, maybe even four someday. She was all too quiet as she stared at him with distinct green eyes and in acute observation.

"Hi, there," he smiled softly. He glanced around but saw no one coming forth to claim the child. He patted the seat next to him. "Would you like to have a seat?"

She hopped up next to him before he could say another word. Surprised at the child's willingness, he eyed the people milling around them once more and planned his next words. Surely, someone would claim her but he'd keep her here until Selina returned.

"What's your name?"

She offered nothing. Bruce gave a small laugh.

"I hope this is your way of telling me your mother taught you to never talk to strangers." He leaned forward, grinning. "That's good advice. Well, I'm...I'm a patient here."

"Sick?"

He nodded somberly. "But I'm getting better."

"Me, too," she whispered. "I wanna go home."

"There's no place like it, is there?" He fought a sigh. He had no home to go to after this. Before, he would find that adventurous, but now, it seemed a mountain Bruce had neither the physical nor mental skills to climb.

"I miss my mommy."

"Is she at your home?"

The child shook her head.

"Is she here?" Bruce smiled, urging her to answer. "You can't find her?"

She nodded.

"You're lost?" He couldn't imagine how the the mother or caretaker managed to lose the delightful little girl, but Bruce sensed that the child did this kind of thing often. She was small and quiet - and very curious.

In silence, she nodded.

"I know the feeling." He sighed. "I don't think it would be wise for us to get up and look for her. I'm not getting around too good. But I will stay right here with you until she comes this way. I'm certain she will, okay?"

The little girl scooted towards him, leaning on his arm while she curled her feet on the chair.

"Now let me see," Bruce put his hand on his chin, pretending to look at her in deep thought. "You're three, aren't you?"

She beamed and held up three fingers...and then...something pink and black in her hand.

"Huh," he stared at the journal. "Did Miss...Asher give you that?"

"Angel lady. Uh-huh." She opened a page and pointed to a tiny drawing on the bottom of a page. "Papa."

"Did you draw this?" Bruce gazed in amazement at the quality of the sketch for such a young child. A man with gray hair sat in cave or closed space. His face was sad, and so was the drawing.

She nodded and pointed again. "Papa was lost."

Bruce blinked as he made the connection. "Cora. You're Cora, and he..." He tapped his finger on the man in the picture. "is your grandfather. He works for Wayne Enterprises."

"I want Mama."

"I know you do," he said. "I promise I won't leave you until she finds you."

"I see you made a new friend," Selina appeared and handed him a bottle, eyes somewhat narrowed at the child.

"I'm lost," Cora whispered, wide-eyed as she looked up at Selina. "Mommy will be mad."

"She'll be happy to see you," Bruce said gently. "Would you like Miss Asher to take you to find your mother?"

Selina glanced at him sharply. "I can't leave you here alone again."

"I'll be fine," he shrugged.

Cora shook her head, locks flying around her. "You'll get lost."

His heart constricted when the child distressed over his safety. "I won't get lost."

"I like you," Cora sniffed and wiped at her nose in a typical childlike fashion. But Bruce didn't mind when she snuggled closer, messy nose and all. "Don't get lost."

"I like you, too. And I promise." Bruce wiped the tear falling from her eye. "I won't get lost. I'll stay right here until Miss Asher comes back. She helps take care of me. I'll stay right here, just like I told you to stay here until we find your mother or Miss Asher takes you to her."

"Promise?"

"Yep, and maybe we can meet again so you can show me more of what you draw in that journal. She gave me the same one, too," he added in a whisper. "How did she know I liked pink?"

Cora giggled at that.

Close to an hour later Bruce's mind reset and although it was the only new thing that he remembered, it was that sound which he spoke of first.

"So I met Fredericks' granddaughter?" He asked, happy to hear the child liked him. He wanted to remember their interaction, but hearing how she did, indeed, giggle at him, was priceless and good enough for now.

Selina looked at him, an odd expression on her face. "You're good with kids."

"I am?"

"Yes. In fact, you're like a magnet. A child magnet."

"Me?" Bruce sat back with his arms crossed, grinning.

"Yes, you. Bruce Wayne, the child magnet. She was glued to your side and she hardly knew you."

"I hope to have a few of my own someday," he murmured, already preparing his mind once again for the work which made his head spin. _Therapy_. But it was therapy with Selina Kyle, and for that reason alone, he'd tolerate whatever it was that he had to do.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note**: I was delighted that the cuteness factor of the last chapter was well received! Just a taste, it was, until that day when they may have their own Bat-Cat children. :-) Thanks so much for reading and offering your kind remarks. I enjoy reading your thoughts about the story. It's advantageous as a writer to see those, as well as different perspectives. Thank you, _the veritable iron rose_, for beta-ing this chapter! I appreciate the second set of eyes!

* * *

"Miss Asher."

It'd been a late night, a long day, and another long night, and Selina hardly expected to see the Fredericks' daughter in the hallways of the clinic at six in the morning.

"Annette," Selina swiftly replied, tamping down a scowl. Bruce needed his breakfast. The less time wasted chatting, even with an amiable acquaintance, the better. Like always after it hit, a migraine had left Bruce on edge and depleted, and although he wouldn't admit it - weakened. He couldn't afford any more setbacks, especially since Leslie had appointed Selina to discuss a rising issue with Bruce. She needed him well for that conversation. It wouldn't be terribly unpleasant, only uncomfortable - for Bruce. "How is Cora?"

"She's doing so well. Dr. Thompkins has done so much for her. I don't think I can ever thank her enough." Annette hesitated. "Is it true what they said in the paper about that nurse? She harmed your patient?"

_Of all things_. "I'm not at liberty to say, but...I am glad he is safe from her."

"I am thankful she never laid a hand on Cora." Annette frowned. "But your patient- I heard he suffered from memory loss? Not many know this, but I worked as a nurse for a short time before I was married. I had many patients who suffered from head injuries. No wonder you looked so tired all the time."

"Thanks," Selina said dryly.

"No, no." Annette's eyes widened. "You worked so hard, and you still do, and now I understand. I hope with this new patient you've had it a bit easier."

Selina nodded absently in return. This was taking up too much time and Selina never was one for small talk when she was being herself. Her other identities were different.

"I know you're busy, but I also want to thank you for the other day," Annette wrapped her arms tightly around herself. The woman's desperate sigh stopped Selina from turning on her heel and leaving. "Cora slipped out of the room after I had fallen asleep. She's done that one other time, when I'd forgotten to lock the door."

"It was no trouble." Cora had tucked her hand into Selina's own as she led her back to her room. It had been a pleasant experience for one who had little experience with children. Especially when Cora rewarded her with a sweet smile like she'd given Bruce, who Selina amusingly thought of as a child magnet.

"She said the man who sat with her was very nice and handsome."

_Out of the mouth of babes._ "He's also extremely stubborn."

"I guess it's true," Annette chuckled. "You're a lucky woman to be caring for him-"

Annette stopped abruptly. A security guard crossed the hallway, catching her attention.

"Annette, do you know that man?" Selina asked quietly, observing the fresh crease in the lines around Annette's mouth and the way her face turned a shade or two lighter.

"No," came the obvious, forced lie.

"Are you in trouble?" Selina lowered her voice even more. Although she hadn't pressed Gordon for information, she'd seen him visit Fredericks several times. And, she'd observed Fredericks' drawn face after one of those visits as she'd passed him by. Bruce had been with her walking the hallways. That had been a close call, but Bruce's hat had been worn correctly that day, shadowing most of his face.

"I should check on Cora and my father." Annette straightened her thin shoulders.

"Are you in trouble?" Selina knew the look of a cornered woman when she saw one. The way Annette's face paled at the sight of the man was most definitely not normal. "I can see you're upset. Who is that man?"

Annette clenched her hands and turned to leave. "No one."

"You've been here longer than I expected and as you said, Cora is doing well," Selina found herself saying. Did she dare press this woman, a woman she hardly knew - all for the sake of her young daughter? "Do you have another place to go?

"You're right," Annette whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around her once more. "We have been here a little longer. Dr. Thompkins allowed us to stay on an extra few days until I figure where out to go. My father's house is in ruins. We can't go there. Sleeping on two chairs next to my daughter's bed is nothing compared to being on the streets like we were, Miss Asher. My father is still too frail to worry, and it's nothing of his doing. My husband..."

The security guard crossed the hallway again, glancing down towards the two women, who undoubtedly stood out in the otherwise barren hallway. Recognition flickered in the man's eyes as they passed over Annette. Selina stepped forward in front of the other woman. The guard continued along his way.

"Is he danger-"

"No," Annette interrupted. "He's just someone that my husband had known through his...business activities. He recognized me. That's all. He wasn't as involved as my husband...I don't think I really have anything to worry about, not if we leave in a few short days. Besides, security is good here."

_Security_. Selina inwardly sighed. No one came into the clinic without screening, and neither could anyone leave without the same. Leslie ran more than a thorough background check on her employees, and especially her security, so it was doubtful the man was shifty. But after what happened with Nurse Beth, Selina didn't think it would hurt to do some investigating herself. Or at the very least, remain on guard. Selina hoped Nurse Beth had been the exception. "Maybe you should get police protection."

"No," Annette replied all too quickly. "We're fine. Especially here. My father already talked with Commissioner Gordon, but there is nothing that can put him in danger while we are here. We don't want to call attention to ourselves."

"Do you need help to find a place to stay after you leave?" Something about that man frightened Annette. Selina didn't want to immerse herself into the woman's problem, but she couldn't help herself. Selina's heart sunk, thinking of Annette's young daughter amidst the situation Annette described. What was left to the imagination - the "business" Annette mentioned - disturbed Selina more. If someone wanted to get to Annette and knew she was here, they would find a way past security.

"No," Annette's eyes darted away. "I should go. Don't worry about us. I've been on my own even before my husband died."

"As someone who has been on her own for years, I understand. Let me help you." Selina said, sincerity behind every word.

"Thank you, but I'm sure we'll be fine." Annette's tight smile as she left dampened Selina's hope that she had spoken the truth.

Selina made her way towards Bruce's room. She closed the door softly behind her. He was still awake, hair mussed and squinting at her with the waning effects of his migraine. She smiled at him in a grand attempt to banish her frustration. No doubt she would lose sleep worrying about the single mother and her daughter. Yet another sign that Bruce Wayne had changed her in such a short time and another reason that she felt compelled to stay with him.

And it was more than compulsion by now.

* * *

The morning had not been smooth. Waking up to a massive headache could never be described as being such, but seeing Miss Kyle stroll into his room for a second time in an hour was a dream come true. He awakened with a migraine, yes, but he also awakened with a memory of a kiss and feeling safe in her arms. She administered his medication and then left to get food, promising to return. After which he'd found his notes and tried to work through the bouts of nausea and the slight tremble of his hands. From there, he waited. Now, after she'd laid out those three items for him to remember, teased him about his protein shakes, and bantered with him about the way he wanted to wear his hat for their walk up and down the hallway, he'd reached a point of contentment. He savored it. He savored each moment with her, thinking all was as normal in his world as it was going to be...until she withdrew from him. His hand grew cold without hers and as she stood by the window, the chasm spread far and wide.

"Miss Kyle," he said quietly. "What do you need to say?"

"It's about Gordon."

He frowned. Why she would bring up the commissioner? "Gordon?"

"Leslie and I made a few decisions, one being not to explain this to you at the time. But since your migraines have worsened, we think it's best for you to know now." Her eyes softened and she returned to his side, expression eager. His stomach churned with dread. He was certain she had something to tell him that he didn't want to hear. "Bruce, you told him who you were before you flew off with the bomb."

He didn't like the turn in the conversation - that information had not been in his notes. _No, no, no._

"Don't worry, I didn't tell him you were alive." An elegant hand rested on his wrist. "Bruce, it's okay."

"You didn't tell him." He wiped his mouth with the back of his other hand, stomach now in tight knots. "You didn't, did you?"

"No," she said. Bruce watched her closely. She was hiding something from him behind that steady, almost unreadable expression of hers. "Does it bother you that much to think that I did?"

"Yes," he said, wondering if he was ever going to get away from the feeling that he was a burden to everyone who crossed his path. "He has enough to worry about."

"Knowing that, I'm still going to be straight with you, Mr. Wayne."

"Mr. Wayne again? Is it because I'm being disagreeable?"

"Yes. I mean, no." Selina sighed. "Listen, Bruce. You agreed to see someone about your migraines. This means we'd have to fly, but you still agreed."

"I did?"

She pulled out his journal, opened it to a particular page, and handed it to him. "I thought it'd be too much for you to read on your own."

His own handwriting assured him Selina spoke the truth, but he shivered. "Selina...I don't..."

"You changed your mind?"

"What does this have to do with Gordon?"

"Leslie has to stay here at the clinic, but she'll catch up to us if she can. You would be able to go in a week, after you have those knee braces."

"What does this have to do with Gordon," he gritted.

Selina took a deep breath. "I think we need another person on board with all of this, no pun intended. If only for a day or two. Especially for transport to the airport, private or otherwise, and settling you into the facility before the duration of the tests."

"Selina, he has to be busy here," Bruce argued, "helping the city get back on its feet."

"Gordon is busy, but by the time you'll be physically able to make the trip, more time will have passed. We need at most three days of his time. I thought of Blake, but Gordon has more history with you. I saw him the day they dedicated the Batman monument, and he's busy, yes, but he looks tired. He could use a different sort of job for a few days." Selina leaned forward excitedly. "Gordon could think of numerous creative ways to help you work through things if we're standing in the airport and your brain resets while I'm getting our tickets, or the luggage, or the taxi, or any of the other million things I will have to do for you."

She was right, and he still groused.

"No." Truthfully, he said it to be contrary and get a reaction from her.

She glared at him and uncrossed her legs. "Bruce, be serious."

"No." He pushed his bedtray aside and braced himself with his arms.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take a little stroll. To clear my head."

"You may need me to help you, Bruce."

"Why?" He asked and pushed himself forward. When the pain took his breath away, he reeled back against his pillows. "What was that, Selina?"

"You...had some aggravation to..." Selina closed her mouth abruptly.

"To what?" He frowned.

"Your back."

"I missed the memo on that," he hissed through clenched teeth as he managed to sit up with her help.

Her brow furrowed, and she quickly scribbled something on her clipboard.

"What are you writing?" He clenched his teeth and wiped at the sweat forming on his brow.

"That you forgot about your back just minutes after reading about it."

"Oh. It sounds like things aren't-"

"No," she stated. "Don't even start saying that things aren't getting better for you. They are."

He wondered if anything had improved.

"Here." Selina moved beside him. Her body pressed against his good side, and she wrapped an arm around his waist. His face warmed, unable to keep his eyes from drifting down her lithe form. "Something wrong, Mr. Wayne?"

Her velvet voice taunted him, reminding him of the night he'd held her in his arms, dancing and flirting before the storm hit. Reminding him of another time that they-

"Bruce." The same warmth as before reflected from her eyes, and he gave her his full attention. "On the count of three, we're going to get you to stand. Push off the floor, mostly with your right leg. And use this cane until I grab that walker for you." She handed him a cane that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"Why only the right leg?" The top of the cane dug into his palm as he tested his weight, for a second worrying his knee was frailer than he thought and close to breaking.

"We're still waiting on your knee braces, and that's the knee that hurts less."

He nodded, preparing for the discomfort he remembered in his knee, the pain he'd allowed himself for eight long years. On the count of three, he was standing...in a hunched sort of way.

"We'll get a brace for your back when you're done. I'm sorry. It will be tender for awhile and keep you from running marathons."

"My knees...keep me...from doing...marathons," he huffed.

"What exactly went wrong with your knees? Leslie never told me."

"No cartilage." There was more to it than that, but Bruce was in no mood to discuss that night which took place eight years ago.

"That sounds...utterly painful. How does that even happen?"

"Well, I'm not terribly certain, but I don't think I can blame water polo for that one."

She shook her head, looking amused as they made their way down the hallway. For now, he'd skirted the question. They were both quiet. It took well over thirty minutes, but as they traveled back to his room, his breath came in harsh waves. Bruce exhaled his relief when he could sit down again. But even then, he felt as if he'd been struck by a million needles in his kneecaps and slugged with a hundred ton mallet in his back. He sat and as Selina made the move to recline his bed, he raised his hand to stop her.

"No. I'd like to just...sit...here."

"Alright," she replied, expression skeptical, but she brought over his water bottle.

"Thank you," he said gratefully, quieting his gasps between sips. "I think...you've done this before...It's an..unfair advantage."

"Perhaps, but so have you. You're getting stronger and doing better, even if you can't see it," she said brightly. "I think today it's harder because yesterday you had a migraine and didn't get out of bed. We need to keep you moving."

He agreed immediately. "Don't allow me to have a day off."

"As you wish, Mr. Wayne," She smirked. "It's time to continue your therapy. I'll give you a minute to focus yourself before I ask you about those three items I set out a little bit ago. And after that...we need to continue our conversation."

She was true to her word, and he tried to be as ready as he could be a moment later. He ran a hand through his hair, tension traveling fast up his shoulders as she posed to ask him questions.

"Bruce, what were the three items I laid out for you?"

He closed his eyes and saw three shadows. That was all.

"Think of one."

"Keys?"

"No," she said gently. "Try again."

"A...a...book."

"No."

"Okay, okay." He sighed, kneading his forehead. "Something that I played with in my hands...cards."

"Yes!" Selina shot up in her chair. "Yes, you do that every time those are out. Go on. Try for the other two items."

"A ball." He glanced up, saw the shake of her head, and sighed again. "No. Okay. I...something I wear?"

"Go on. You're close."

"A hat? No?" He sighed. "Selina, I don't know."

"It's alright. You made progress."

"You call that progress?" He asked incredulously, returning to rub at the fierce, gnawing ache in his head.

"Absolutely. You got one correct, and almost another. That's the closest you've ever gotten to remembering these little quizzes. Now, let's move on quickly. I can tell you're getting a headache from this. What's the month?"

"A cold one. Maybe you should bring me some mittens tomorrow."

She glanced back at the frosted window behind her, then rolled her eyes. "No, I guess you don't remember."

He shook his head.

"How many days have you been here at the clinic?"

He didn't know that either and from the way Selina's face turned to stone, it must be longer than he would've first guessed.

"This is...this is hard for you." A lump grew in his throat. "I'm sorry."

"It is harder for you."

"But I can't remember how hard it is for me," he quipped and offered her a lopsided grin. "You forget."

"You always get me with that boyish charm of yours, Mr. Wayne, but you are avoiding the question. How many days?"

He didn't want to answer.

"Bruce..."

He couldn't answer.

"Can we just forget this for now?" He swallowed. "Please."

Selina, queen of masquerades, clung to her mask with all her might, but he saw what slipped through its tiny cracks. Fear. Worry. He clenched his fists, hating that it was him who caused her turmoil.

"It's just...I've had a very nice time with you and, and I don't want to ruin it like this. Please. Selina. I know I won't remember any of this, but I feel something now that I don't want to lose."

"Leslie wants you to answer." Selina's voice trembled. Barely. Someone who didn't want to bother truly knowing her wouldn't have heard it. But he did. "If you don't answer, Bruce, she'll have my head."

"Can't we just leave it alone for now?"

"We can't. Just answer the question."

He tempered his voice with as much coolness he could muster. "I. Don't. Know. There, are you happy?"

"You're alive, Bruce." Selina said simply. "So yes, I am happy. You've been at the clinic for twenty-six days. For three weeks I've sat here with you, twelve hours a day, at least. And in a little while, you won't remember any of this but maybe one thing, but I'll stay anyways, and we'll try again."

"Why couldn't you have left it alone, just for this once?" He pleaded, fighting the devastation from knowing that his life was in upheaval.

"Because, Bruce, it could be the time you remember."

"Twenty-six days," he repeated hoarsely. "I've been here twenty-six days. Selina, I can't even remember...Selina, I can't let you down anymore."

"This is nothing you can control. It's been twenty-six days but each day is better. You are not letting me down. It's quite the opposite. You've made progress." She leaned forward, eyes alighting. "Leslie will set up an appointment with a trauma specialist. I'm certain we'll get the answers we need."

"Specialist," he murmured. The idea was somewhat familiar. "Where?"

"There are several options, and considering that we'll have to fly for any of them-"

"Fly?"

Selina nodded. "We'll try to find a smaller, private airport."

"I know of one."

She looked at him doubtfully.

"I do." He paused. "Mine."

"You have an airport." Selina said, disbelief etched in her features. "I thought you were broke."

"Hardly from it. I have offshore accounts."

"You never thought to mention this before?" Selina said, her exasperation clear. Bruce shrugged.

"How am I supposed to know that?" He couldn't help but be defensive. "Maybe I did think of it and then...forgot to tell you."

Selina stared at him for a long moment and expelled a slow breath. "Bruce, I'm sorry. I suppose you probably weren't able to connect the dots for yourself and tell me in time before you forgot all over again. This is only the fourth time I've repeated Leslie's plan to you."

"Four times should be enough," he muttered, picking up his pencil - and feeling very much like breaking it in two - to write in his journal. First, however, he wrote down the airport information and tore the page to give to Selina. "Here. The airport is a four-hour drive from here. I own it under an alias."

"Four hours worth of driving before we fly?" Selina frowned. "Bruce, I need to ask Gordon to come with us."

"Gordon? Why? Does he know that I'm here?"

Selina's lips tightened, hinting at displeasure. He squirmed, instantly realizing his error.

"We've discussed this already."

She nodded.

"Just a little bit ago, I take it."

"Yes," she said thinly.

"Does he know?" He approached the subject again with caution.

"Would it matter if it did? I think that since Leslie can't leave the clinic-"

"No," Bruce broke in. "She can't leave. Not with all of these people needing her."

Selina's tense smile took him aback. "I know, Bruce. She'll stay here, but I can't take care of you, drive us, and get you settled without help."

Bruce followed the weary lines of her shoulders, the way her hair haphazardly fell from her ponytail, and the bruised appearance underneath her eyes. _She's exhausted_. It hit Bruce like a freight train. He couldn't even imagine the immeasurable sacrifices she'd made to help him. Had he monopolized all her time? Drained her emotionally with his pathetic state? Had anyone else but Leslie and Selina been helping him? He could only imagine the stress caring for someone in his situation. Selina needed to let Gordon know, not only for Bruce's sake, but for hers.

"Alright." He agreed for her sake - not his. Bruce hoped Gordon could forgive him for handing him this burden. "You can ask Gordon."

Selina brought a hand up to her face, obviously shying her face away from him.

"You're upset with me." Bruce watched her, realizing it was his fault that this strong woman had reached a physical and emotional breaking point - and he was helpless to fix it. After all, he'd been the cause. "I'm sorry. I know this is my fault."

"It's not your fault," she said.

"Selina, what...what can I do?"

"I'm just happy," was the mumbled reply.

"Sure. That's what all women say when a man with short-term memory loss finally wises up and agrees with the plan he was too stubborn to agree with in the first place."

Selina snorted and uncovered her face. She'd never been more beautiful to him as he stared and she pulled herself together. It didn't even look like she was near tears but she didn't look exactly happy, either. He caught the sheen in her eyes before she blinked it away completely.

"Bruce, I never cry, but the past three weeks you've put me the closest to tears than I've ever been in my entire life."

"We'll just have to amend that," he said. Informing Gordon that Batman was alive and needed his help? _This will be the fun Selina needs._

She peered suspiciously at him. "What are you thinking?"

He arched an eyebrow, certain she'd arise to the occasion even if he couldn't. "How would you like to visit my cave?"


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: This is perhaps the shortest chapter I've ever posted for a story. It may be short but hoping ya'll think it's sweet, too. It's also probably the fluffiest chapter to date. But I think we (and maybe Bruce, too) need some of that. I've taken some liberties with the timing on the dealings with Bruce's estate. So, if there are questions regarding that...you'll receive answers soon. Just...not yet. :-)

Thank you for following and reviewing! Sorry about the little extra wait!

* * *

Sunlight hit Gordon unfavorably across his face. With a faint groan, he moved his head and squinted against the light. He'd prefer to sleep the day away but forced himself to glance at his watch. Seven in the morning and he was still on the couch. He should have left for the station more than an hour ago to keep ahead of his work. The chaos in post-Bane Gotham was still demanding after nearly four weeks, but with outside help things were manageable. People were returning to their homes, the food supply was gaining normalcy, and the daily routines of Gotham citizens slowly on the mend. The loss of so many on the force hit hard and it would be quite the climb to get the city to its feet as they battled against those criminals who'd escaped from Blackgate. Despite the criminals who were at large, for the most part they'd been somewhat quiet. Beginning the day earlier than seven was as imperative as drowning himself in work - if only to get through the day.

After making himself somewhat presentable for work, he grabbed his coat from the floor where he had tossed it the night before. He shrugged it on as he walked through the kitchen to the backdoor, not bothering to stick a hand in the refrigerator for the milk or for a bagel to toast. He had no appetite. Despite the public memorial of Batman and his ultimate sacrifice, and then learning that he lived and saving him from a woman who reminded him all too much of the Joker, Gordon's depression mercilessly dragged him in the dust. His friend - a long-time, faithful friend - had died and now resurrected with a stunted memory.

It was enough to depress anybody, Gordon argued with himself. Although he was relieved his friend was alive and had even put up a wonderful front that he was content for now, Gordon's lost feeling stuck like a leech. He felt lost - because he wanted so much to help his friend but ironically, the way in which he could help Bruce was to stay away. His estranged wife sensed the difference in him. Of course, he didn't say anything. She, however, insisted on coming and bringing the children for a visit. He couldn't refuse but delayed them with what he knew to be an ill-fitted excuse. What else could he do?

Gordon flipped the lightswitch and placed his hand on the doorknob. He could be the father he should be, and the friend. With patience, he told himself. Sighing, he took a second glance at his kitchen- and the small, dark object jutting from the back of his chair.

It couldn't be.

He abandoned the thought of leaving and took the preciously familiar metal-shaped bat and the note pinned underneath, placing them both in the palm of his hands.

_Station roof tomorrow morning. Five a.m. No earlier. We need to talk._

"Station roof," Gordon muttered. He'd not been up to the top in months. Signed with fancily scrawled initials, "S.K.," the note made no sense, given who he knew to be "S.K" and that she used one of Batman's original and symbolized tools.

It made no sense, either, that Gordon's depression lifted exponentially as the day passed. For all he knew, nothing had changed. Since the day he'd saved Wayne from the nurse, Gordon had returned to the clinic several times. But only to question Fredericks and ask him to consider his family's safety. Until Bruce remembered he'd told Gordon his true identity or at least wanted Gordon to know he was alive, Gordon needed to stay away. He had to respect his friend's wishes. As it was, Bruce Wayne still did not want his secret known to Gordon but even worse, his condition hadn't improved much at all.

But for all that Gordon hoped?

It would take a miracle he was certain the Bat could not deliver on his own.

* * *

Stepping foot into Bruce's dark world without him was irreverent.

As irreverent as it was, the drive through the Palisades teased her. She didn't know what to expect, but the lush foliage threw her - only a little.

Until she came to a dead end.

Is he insane? Selina stared at the waterfall sweeping over the rocks at full throttle. She was all about adventure, but this...this was almost nerve-wracking and irreverent. She hated the water. She'd texted him immediately, for yes, she bought him a cell-phone plan, with the money he _still_ had. All in all, getting him a phone seemed the next best idea since sliced bread except for when what seemed like the hundredth text came to her in the thirty minutes since she'd left his room.

_Just jump through. But, be careful, Cat. You may get a little wet._

_Seriously, Wayne? _

When he sent her a little smiley face in return, she groveled.

Only for a minute, though, until she smirked. Bruce Wayne, sending her smiley faces. She shook her head and threw the grappling hook and once satisfied that it would hold her, she adjusted the ropes, and took a leap of faith. It was a rush, no doubt, and no wall smashed her face like she'd half-expected it to. She landed, wet and steady. She uncurled herself from her landing position, shaking herself free of water and slicking the hair away from her face. Glancing above and around and at the series of arches sweeping the expansive cave, her eyes widened. Earthy scents and sights stirred and delighted Selina's most secretive thoughts and desires. To be in his cave, to be given another chance to make things up to him, to see what sculpted him? She didn't know what to do with herself, and frankly, maybe it was good that Bruce wasn't there to see her ridiculously wide smile and enraptured eyes or hear her giddy laughter.

Helping Bruce steal from himself in a cave underneath Wayne Manor sure beat cat burglary.

Her smile spread wider as she took in every shadowy place, heard every drop of water beating against the rocks, saw every sweep of bat wing as she disturbed their habitat, watched the rising of hidden platforms- all while imagining him here with her. He should be here with her. Life was unfair, and had seemed uncommonly unfair to Bruce Wayne. She kept moving like her thoughts raced from one curiosity to the next, her razor-sharp booted heels clicking on the damp floor as she made her way to the hidden compartments. Bruce explained those contained what she needed to fix the Bat Signal. As she took inventory, Bruce's preparedness was nothing short of astonishing and impeccable.

It would take her all of two nights to fix the signal, being she didn't have the vehicle to take what she needed efficiently. So, she did not give Gordon the message to meet her until after she began her work the first night.

"What do you think he'll do?" Selina asked Bruce the next morning.

"Take it in stride. I hope." Bruce yawned. She'd asked Dr. Thompkins to awaken Bruce early to fill him in, so eager was she to start their usual routine and finally tell him what she thought of the cave. "I'm not sure this is the right thing to do. It's not like he can raise the signal."

"Not unless you train someone to take your place."

"Train someone?" Bruce repeated softly, furrowing his brow in that familiar way.

He pushed himself out of his wheelchair before Selina could stop him and used his cane to stand closer to the window.

"I have a bag ready for Blake."

"You have a bag ready for Blake? What do you mean?"

Bruce's expression pained. "I don't know, Selina. The thought came out of nowhere. I don't know what it means or where this bag is...If I was going to train anyone to take up the mantle, Blake would be the one I'd choose. That I do know."

He squeezed his eyes shut, the waver of his body as he leaned on his cane telling. She grasped his arm. The strength coursing beneath her fingertips did not fool her. He may be strong, but his body needed time. "Bruce, maybe you should-"

"I'm fine. Just give me a minute." He held up his hand. "Please."

Selina hovered but gave in to his request. The depth of concetration on his face fascinated her and he looked more at peace than she'd seen him for weeks.

Bruce took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and gave her a faint but satsified grin. "I have a bag in the compartment next to the one that holds the spare signal, a bag that I always keep as a precaution. Maybe there's another bag stored there. Bring them both. Then I'll decide what to do from there."

She visited his cave the second time, opening the compartment next to the one she had discovered yesterday.

He'd remembered correctly.

One bag carried clothing, passports, cash, keys, and a few pieces of nondescript equipment a man who disguised himself as Batman might find to come in handy. She left all of the items alone, zipping it up purposefully. The other contained a hook and rope much like the ones Selina used, the coordinates for the cave, and an attached label with an enclosed name.

She raised an eyebrow. "Robin Blake?"

_Robin Blake? The kid's legal name is Robin? _She texted Bruce, then found herself as enraptured by every nook and cranny of the cave as she was enraptured by all the facets of Bruce Wayne, and waited.

An hour later, Bruce finally replied.

_Sorry it took me so long. Leslie had to explain to me why I was receiving texts from a beautiful thief who was loitering in my cave. Now I'm up to speed. Robin's a good, classic steal-from-the-rich-to-help-the-poor kind of name. You should like that. Give the guy a break, Miss Kyle._

Selina relaxed in Bruce's chair, watched the cool blanket of water shimmer its way down over the cave entrance, and smiled as she typed her reply.

_For you, Mr. Wayne, I may just jump through a waterfall._


	13. Chapter 13

Selina glided through the door, the aura about her intoxicating. Bruce took notice first of her clothing. She'd obviously come directly from the cave - his territory - although she now wore clean, low heeled boots and as well as a longer leather jacket, both of which subdued her look. He swore he could smell the damp rock and earth as she sauntered towards him. She smiled serenely, unaware of the affect her wet hair, gleaming, wide eyes, black clad body, and contented expression had on him.

He swallowed uncomfortably, contemplating the limits of his current physical and mental condition that Leslie had explained to him a short while ago before she stepped out. He'd give anything - anything - to proceed how he wanted with the woman who, according to Leslie, has made all the difference in his recovery since Batman died.

Instead, he sat entranced in his chair as she hefted two bags onto Bruce's bed with impressive ease and slipped off her jacket. He paid no heed to the bags. The flushed, vibrant appearance of Selina - which he was certain was caused by her visit to his cave and how could she not get a high from that - offered Bruce much more than the contents of the bags did. He stared unapologetically, eyes sweeping her entire tightly clothed physique, from the curve of her toned legs, to her perfectly rounded hips, and then to the sultry lips he'd have to kiss to get his head on straight. Her lips twisted into an amused smile as she realized his blatant attraction and where his eyes had traveled.

"Cat got your tongue, Mr. Wayne?"

"Quite." He cleared his throat. "Miss Kyle."

"We really are past formalities." She admitted, sitting on the edge of his bed, only inches away.

"How...how far past?" He furrowed his brow.

"Friends..." Selina's eyes glimmered as she stood again. He didn't believe her. "However, you did kiss me the other day but sometimes you don't remember."

"My loss, then, unless you want to see if I remember this one." Unexpectedly, he stood, supported with his cane. He wrapped his free arm around her to pull her close. His mouth covered hers hungrily, and even more as she wove her hands into his hair. He groaned.

"Bruce," she whispered when he paused and rested his cheek against hers. He couldn't get enough, however, and pressed his lips on hers, deepening the kiss. He knew she was enjoying it when she made a sound at the back of her throat. But she was the first to pull away, breathless and achingly beautiful.

He reached for her again, but she gently pushed against his chest. Slightly stunned, Bruce stared at her, unsure of how to react to her retreat.

"As much as I'd like to continue along these lines, we have work to do, Bruce." Her voice washed over him, silken and soothing. But it was her eyes, afire and yearning, that gave her away.

Satisfied that he'd made an impression she clearly appreciated, he leaned on the cane with both hands, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"You really shouldn't had done that," she tsked. "Now I'll feel guilty."

"Don't feel guilty. I don't."

"One of us should and being that you're the one who won't even remember that means me."

"So you're the responsible one in our relationship?" He asked, the idea instantly thrilling. "I didn't expect to hear that."

"We aren't...we..." Selina sighed. "There is no relationship."

"Why not?" He asked honestly. "I may be a man hindered in mind, but not of heart. There is something going on between us."

"You. That's why...Bruce." She frowned at him, but didn't deny his claim. "The last memory you have of me. What is it?"

He frowned back. "That's not a fair question."

"Answer me, please?"

"You took me to Bane, just as I had asked," he said, meeting her gaze straight on but unwilling to go further for one reason - he'd forgiven her. "But this. You being here...it proves I was right."

"No. It doesn't. Your answer is to my question is why we shouldn't be in any relationship."

"So, does this mean you're here out of misplaced guilt?"

She looked at him, silent.

"If it is, I won't make you stay. That's not fair to either of us."

"I don't...I..."

"You don't...what?"

"I don't want to leave," she said. "Maybe this is the worst timing and too soon for us both. Maybe we really are suckers for wanting to save each other. But I can't leave you, Bruce. At least not until you're better and you're memory has returned."

"It is guilt, then."

She unzipped one of the bags, her sigh heavy and distracted. "Let's get down to business. I only have a few hours before I have to leave and take care of things for you."

He stared at her hands busy with the bag, hating himself for even beginning their day the way he had. He was miserable. As soon as she waltzed into the room, he'd lost his mind. Completely, if he wanted to be entirely honest with himself. If she carried misplaced guilt over what Bane had done to him and Bruce was limited by his mind as he was, what hope did he have that she stayed here for him and him alone?

"Oh no," Selina said in a dry tone. "Please don't brood, Mr. Wayne. You've done that before and it's not fun to watch."

"I'll try not to, then." He gave her a saddened smile, trying hard to calm the war raging within him. "So, the cave, huh? What did you think?"

"Impressive," she murmured in a tone huskier than normal and looked at him almost regretfully. "But you should've been there with me."

"No," Bruce sighed and carefully sat back down in his chair. He kept the cane within his grasp. In his mind, he was strong enough to walk a million miles for this woman, but it was far from his truth. "I don't think it would be the best thing for me to go back there right now. I couldn't anyways."

"You really are going to ask Blake to replace you."

"It seems that's what I wanted to do, Selina." He motioned to his notes on his table. "I can train him-"

"Train him?" Selina pursued her lips.

"Yes, train him."

"Eventually, you mean. Not now."

"You're not happy with the idea." She was right. He wasn't in any condition to train anyone. It took a mental strength he didn't have, obviously, and the physical fitness he'd have to regain. Add in the surgeries he needed on his knees - and his back - with weeks and weeks of recuperation and therapy traditional training was a long, long way off.

Selina sent him a dark look as she began to pace. She was high strung and it unnerved him. He sighed inwardly, wishing that he could start the day over with both feet firmly planted on the ground.

"I don't care who you choose to fight crime in your city in your place. I care that you're one hit short to the head to becoming a vegetable or dying, Bruce. And I care that you don't seem to understand that."

"I do understand that, Miss Kyle." He said, emphasizing the fact that he'd return to formalities.

"Do you?" She stopped pacing and cocked her head at him in a challenge. He glanced down at the bag Selina had set beside him and grazed the top of it with his hand, unwilling to part with the idea of bequeathing his cave to a man eager to do good and smart enough to learn how to use the skills Bruce had acquired. "One hit in the head, Bruce."

"I won't get hit in the head."

"You can't prevent something like that. Even in training you could be hit." Selina shook her head. "Anyways, it's not like you can mail it to him with your return address. Bruce Wayne is dead."

"Maybe you could drop it off at his apartment for me."

"I will jump through a waterfall for you, but I draw the line at making a house call to the kid who arrested me," Selina huffed.

"You will have to deliver it somewhere for me, you know. Is that going to be okay-"

She rolled her eyes. "Wayne. Please. I'd go through the front door of Wayne Enterprises in broad daylight if it meant sorting this out."

_Wayne Enterprises. _

"Didn't you write in my notes that you found out they'll be reading the will and dispersing of what's left of my estate soon? I can't imagine with all that has happened in Gotham that they've even begun the process."

Selina glowered at him, as it were him who had been throwing curveballs all this time.

"You're the one who gave me the idea, Miss Kyle." Bruce brushed her off casually. "The broad daylight thing may just work. You can handle that. The only way for this to go through the appropriate people and then to Blake is if you first take it directly to Fox."

Her frown lifted. "Fox. I'd like to see him again."

"Of course, this means my secret is out to one more person, but it's not like Fox wasn't going to figure it out anyways. Since it's likely I did use autopilot, he'd know from checking the software patch."

"I'm sorry you can't remember, Bruce."

Surprised at her sincere apology, Bruce gave her a smile. "Don't be. I figure things could be a lot worse, Miss Kyle."

"'I'd say this was 'a lot worse' in my book," Selina muttered, now pacing the room.

He fell silent, wondering what had really been the thing to set her on edge, and fingered the name tag attached to the bag. Robin Blake. Training Blake would be a challenge, an almost impossible one. He couldn't do it alone. Selina was right. Bruce glanced up at Selina, who had an odd expression on her face.

"If you did fix the autopilot, you'd know it would show up on the software patch, Bruce. That means you already knew Fox would find out. You wanted him to discover for himself. And Blake."

"That seems a little mean," he muttered, cross with himself. He'd strung the logic together on his own, before she came through the door. But it didn't meant he knew what to do with all of this information. They were facts - and facts, only.

"No," she said softly. "Don't think of it in that sense. You had to stay buried. Maybe...maybe you wanted a little time to yourself. You deserve it."

Maybe he wanted a lot of time to himself. What Selina explained made sense.

"Gordon will find out tonight, whether or not it was in my plans initially. But, what about Alfred, Miss Kyle?" Two of the people he cared about most. And the third - Miss Kyle?

"That is something I can't answer for you." Selina hesitated, watching him warily from the foot of the bed. "Do you want Alfred to know you're alive?"

He did, but the pain Bruce could still inflict upon Alfred wasn't worth the risk. Bruce sighed, hoping he was making the best decision and not revisiting his selfish, reclusive ways. "No, not now, not when I'm like this. We parted ways badly."

"I would think that the way you parted would be of no consequence once he hears you are alive."

"It hurts me to keep this hidden from him, Miss Kyle, but I don't want him to feel guilty for what happened to me. He feels enough guilt." He forced himself to stop there and avoid any detail on that matter. "I also don't want him to feel burdened in any way. I've put him through so much over the years and this would be too much. He can't know. Not yet."

"Okay."

Selina's quiet, acquiescent reply delighted him. He smiled at her with gratitude. Now he was ready to go over the rest of the details with her for the night.

* * *

Bruce's memory flourished at an astonishing rate as they planned the unveiling of the bat signal and meeting with Gordon as well as taking the bag to Fox. Selina held her breath, not quite knowing how to proceed when pieces of Bruce's short-term memory stretched to yet another hour and then by two - and then three.

That was the peak, and as Bruce fell distant and vague, withdrawing from her questions, not completely comprehending her explanations, and hardly knowing she was even in the room with him when by early afternoon, she realized they may have taken one step forward only to take two steps backwards. Bruce dug his fingers into his skull, already having hit his pillow with a thud and been administered a good dose of painkillers.

"I'll try to find Leslie." She ran a hand gently through his hair, wishing she could take away his pain.

_"Who? What?"_

"Your doctor."

"Oh. _Stay_."

Her heart clenched hearing his agonizing whisper. Ever since he kissed her that morning, Selina stepped back from him, thinking that he'd focus on the more important tasks at hand. It hurt to shut down his hope that they were in some definitive relationship, but she'd no choice even though it wasn't entirely truthful. They were something. But her plan worked. That, at least, had made her 'cold-shoulder' facade worth every painful minute she endured.

She pulled away but Bruce's strained, almost incoherent stay made her pause. "I'm not leaving the room right now. I need to get my phone. That's all."

He mumbled, his words muffled as he pressed his face partway into his pillow.

Selina waited, seeing that he seemed to what to tell her something. "Bruce, did you need something?"

His hands came down from his skull to the bed and he lifted his head barely off the pillow. "Fresh air..."

"What?" The man couldn't be serious. "I don't care if you are Batman, you're not up to doing that."

"Please," he weakly replied.

"Now, when you're in the midst of this? Bruce..."

Bruce pushed himself up and gave one limp nod, hardly enough to convince her. "I'll...work through it. The meds...will help."

"Have you ever thought it may be best to stick around here since you can't even open your eyes, handsome?"

"Tired... of being...a...shut-in." He winced, stepping towards his chair aided only by his cane. "Remember. No day off."

"I had no idea when I signed up for this that you'd be so stubborn, Mr. Wayne."

"I'm stronger...than I look."

"I know you are." She allowed himself the solitary struggle of getting himself in the chair and smirked a little at the weary smile on his lips. He was stronger than he looked but that didn't make it any easier for the man. She tucked a blanket under her arms before she began their journey through the clinic's subdued hallways. The almost-silent clinic was a blessing, really. Bruce kept his eyes shut for the most part. But when Selina pointed the chair towards the patio, he jerked himself wide awake. She turned the doorknob, ready to give him the fresh air he'd requested when she met with resistance.

Bruce's arm stretched out and his hand pressed against the door.

"No," he whispered.

Selina released the knob slowly. "It's not so cold today. In fact, it smells like spring out there. You picked the perfect day to ask-"

"_No_."

"Bruce? This was your idea, remember?"

"No. _She_...took me...here."

Her stomach recoiled. "You remember Nurse Be-"

"Don't say her name. Don't take me out there...please."

"I won't, big guy." She set her jaw, determined not to show him that he'd set her on edge with his reaction.

Bruce withdrew his arm and slumped in his chair, head bent and held up by his hand. Her instincts had told her that this would be too much but his pleading broke her heart. And now...she couldn't imagine what thoughts raced through Bruce's mind. Leslie should be informed. She'd know they should proceed.

But for now, she'd set Bruce on a different course. Distract him. Tell him the truth.

"Bruce," she whispered. "About us."

"Mmm?" He perked up, if one could call the small lilt to his noncommittal answer "perky."

Selina inhaled sharply. "We're..."

"We're what?"

"I lied before. About our relationship. There is...something."

"I know. Your eyes...gave you...away."

How could the man's whisper sound so smug? He'd read her well, yes. Maybe she should give him the credit he deserved.

"Bruce, there is something between us...but we...haven't defined it."

Fearful of saying anything else, Selina bit her tongue. She gripped the handles of his chair and had nudged him away from the hellish reminder when a familiar, small voice whispered from a few feet away.

"It's him, Mommy!"

* * *

Selina's confession helped Bruce work through the onslaught of painful, emotional memory as he shied himself from the rest of the world.

That nurse - a woman who surely had taken lessons from one of his worst enemies- whatever she did was irrelevant. He couldn't remember, anyways. He remembered only her face and the feelings she'd elicited from him, some of which tortured him in that very place - the patio. Despair. Hopelessness. Forgetfulness. Pain. They were descriptions of his worst nightmare. But Selina's admittance, although reluctant, chiseled away at the terror.

"You have visitors, Alex," Selina whispered. "Annette and her daughter, Cora."

He suppressed a sigh. He'd have to fake being well and being whomever it was he was supposed to be. Apparently...this time it was Alex.

"This must be a bad time," Annette's quiet voice came from Bruce's left. She'd come closer, perhaps was leaning in towards Selina to present her questions. "Is everything okay?"

"Maybe another time would be better. He has a pretty awful headache." Selina's hand squeezed his shoulder.

"I understand. I'm sorry we came over at a bad time."

Hearing the sniffle of a child, something broke the present, remaining bonds of his bitter memory of Nurse Beth - and Bruce opened his eyes, scarcely squinting at the lights around them.

"It's the perfect time." Selina's wary glance hardly deterred him from smiling at Cora. The hopelessness and fear he'd felt was waning. His migraine wasn't so bad after all, as long as he had a goal. Talking with Cora wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Even though he knew in a blink of an eye it could render him useless, the chance was worth it. "I feel better."

He didn't but training and self-discipline gave him the balance he needed.

After looking pointedly at Selina, he turned his still-pounding head to Cora. "Hi, there."

His greeting put everyone at ease and before he knew it, Bruce found himself playing Candyland with a three year old in the rec room.

Annette and Selina watched the game from another table. Bruce didn't mind. He liked having this adorable and charming little girl to himself. Everytime she smiled at him, it was for him only and each time a little piece of his headache disappeared.

"I need to make a quick phone call to postpone an appointment," Selina said after some time.

He couldn't remember anything about an appointment. He frowned at her.

"It's not important. I'll explain later, alright?" She said softly to him. "Annette will stay here with you until I come back, okay?"

"Sure," Bruce said lightly as he reached for a card in the pile. The end was near. He could taste the victory. Until he read the card. Bruce frowned at Cora. "You, young lady, were not supposed to win like this."

Cora cupped her hands to her mouth and her eyes sparkled with laughter. Selina rolled her eyes before she left.

"Handsome, you can't always be the best. Don't be a sore loser."

Bruce laughed. Before he turned his attention back to Cora, he realized her grandfather had come into the rec room and now stood within a few feet away. Fredericks' body appeared considerably thinner. More creases lined his face but his expression struck Bruce more than anything.

Bruce's smile somewhat faded. This was it. A moment of truth.

"Ah, so this is where you two go for a good time." Fredericks stood in curious study of Bruce and the game he'd been playing with his granddaughter. "And I assume you are the patient who made sure Cora was safe the other day?"

"Yes, sir." Bruce had already attached a light rasp to his voice, but he enforced it a bit too much in his greeting. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me."

"I'm Douglas Fredericks."

Bruce shook the man's hand, careful to shake it the way Bruce Wayne would never shake someone's hand - purposefully, with the utmost respect. "I'm...Alex. Your granddaughter is quite charming."

"Cora is a special child. She has a way about her."

"Cora?" Bruce frowned.

"Don't you member my name?" The little girl widened her eyes. Bruce restrained a groan, realizing his error.

"Yes. Of course," Bruce thoughts raced, coming up with a plan to hide his mistake. He smiled brightly at Cora. "Eloise."

"No," she giggled.

"Maybe...it's Matilda? Gwenyth?"

"No," she said with a three-year old's dramatic impatience. "Mommy, tell him my name."

"Wait," Bruce interjected. "I know what it is."

Cora leaned forward and gazed widely at him. He paused, enjoying the growing anticipation on the child's face. This was a ridiculous amount of fun and he was certain he wanted to play Candyland for another time tomorrow if he could.

"Cora, Princess of Candy Land," Bruce announced with a grand gesture, and Cora begged to play another round.

Finding that his headache had all but disappeared, Bruce easily agreed. He and Cora shared their made-up tales of kings and queens and candy and frogs as they landed on spaces and flipped over colorful cards. Bruce did not look at Fredericks more than what would be deemed polite. When Selina returned, he could hardly tear himself away from the game to give her a reassuring smile. She was tense, and he knew why. But Fredericks had not given any indication he recognized Bruce. And he shouldn't recognize Bruce- nothing was the same. He'd longer, much darker hair, a thinner face, a beaten body, a scraggly goatee, a rasping voice - not even the way he gave so much attention to a child was the same.

The game reached its end when his body could no longer handle sitting like he had been for so long. It cruelly reminded him of who he had become - an forgetful cripple with a back burdened with chronic pain. Which, in turn, ushered in the migraine he'd fought only an hour earlier. People faded and all was pain and confusing and dark until Selina's hands gently guided him to sit back in his chair.

But he could hardly bear to sit. His muscles rolled tautly, his hands straining against the misery gripping so many parts of his body. Her hands brushed back his hair back into a ponytail, ridding him of some of the warmth creeping along his neck. She rubbed his shoulders.

"Hey," she whispered in his ear. "Stay with me. Remember what I told you? About us?"

"Mmhmm."

"Good. Think on that. We're going back to your room," she said kindly in his ear, as if she were the professional, compassionate nurse, not the thief he desired. He didn't remember where they were now, or why they'd come, or why they were going back to his room in the first place. But Fredericks showed keen interest in the disguised Bruce, which meant trouble. And the adorable child had given him a tiny hug, which left him happy.

"I'm sorry." He managed to mumble the apology before the haze thickened.

"I understand." The quiet answer came from Fredericks. "Your father suffered horrific migraines early on in his marriage to your mother, Martha. He found the proper treatment, but it took some time."

Fredericks, who now knew Bruce Wayne was alive.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Hope you enjoy this somewhat of a conglomerate of a chapter. :-) The veritable iron rose- thanks so much for beta reading!

* * *

Selina didn't know what angle Fredericks would take, but she'd be wasting her breath if she tried to deny his claim. Besides, Bruce had cracked his eyes open and the two men locked scrutinizing gazes.

"Whatever it is that you are thinking," she said quietly on behalf of the man riddled with pain, "this man deserves silence until you've heard what it is he has to say."

"It's okay," Bruce whispered.

"It's not," she bit out, looking at him angrily. "And you know it."

"We'll work through it," Bruce huffed a sigh, his voice so weak Selina had to lean in to hear him. "Trust me, please?"

She did trust him. She just didn't trust anyone else when it came to Bruce.

"I'm… shocked, my boy. Rumors were you were taken in by Bane's men." Fredericks' mouth flattened. Bruce nodded faintly, and Selina wondered how much that movement cost as his face twisted in a grimace.

"I was," Bruce's voice was barely above a murmur as his eyes closed. His head bent and he once again hid under the shadow of his hand. "'Lina."

The pain had sunk its teeth deeper into Bruce, for Selina knew he'd not use her name had he been a little more lucid. She gripped the arms of the wheelchair, pushing Bruce forward. He needed Dr. Thompkins' urgent care. "Mr. Fredericks, I can assume until we can talk further that you will keep this quiet?"

"What are you talking about? Dad, you think he's..." Annette looked at Bruce in plain disbelief. "No. Look at him! He's not Mr. Wayne. He can't be. Did you see how he played with Cora? Dad, Mr. Wayne is...he's...gone."

"It's him, Annie. I admit, I'm a little confused as to why Bruce, even in convalescence, would take the time to play with a child. He did so with such ease and care. I've never seen him act like that, and for a moment, I thought I was wrong. But the past months have been hard on all of us. We've...all had to make changes."

_Yes, they had, indeed._

"I need to take my patient back to his room where he can be treated for his migraine. We will continue this discussion later, along with Dr. Thompkins and Commissioner Gordon, who are both well aware of these circumstances," Selina said with a steely voice, utterly uncompromising. "But, first, Mr. Fredericks, for the sake of my patient, I need your word that you will remain quiet about this. All of it."

* * *

"I can't fake that part anymore, Selina," Bruce sighed. The medication Leslie had administered had helped control his pain and the invalid was finally able to think through the situation himself, however exhausting it was. Against both Leslie's and Selina's wishes, he used his nervous energy to walk around with his cane. "I don't have it in me to pretend to be that Wayne."

"You don't have to be the self-centered playboy anymore, Bruce. Brain trauma can cause personality changes. It's the perfect cover." Leslie soothed him.

"And how do we convince them both not to say anything?"

"Gordon." Selina said from the window ledge. "I told Annette and her father that Gordon knew already. He can say it's for your protection. Your safety. They'll have to comply because Gordon will tell them the police are involved."

"I think it will be wonderful for someone on the board to see who you truly are." Leslie smiled softly. Bruce turned the idea over in his mind, wanting to admit that he found it at least partially enticing.

"They are not going to see who I truly am," He muttered instead. He leaned against the wall, tilting his head back. "They'll see a broken idiot who took down his parents' company with careless 'gambling' and who, by a stroke of luck and a hit to the head, had a change of heart. Why would they even want to remain quiet? It'd be too tempting to break the news."

"I can be pretty good at convincing," Selina smirked. "And I did just save Fredericks' life."

He frowned. "You'd use threats? They have a little girl to take care of, Selina."

"You know I'd do anything and everything if it meant I can keep them quiet."

"Not everything."

"Your standards are pretty high for me, Wayne."

"They need to be high, but I was told you're adaptable."

"I think you're both underestimating Fredericks' integrity, besides the fact that he's gone through quite an ordeal himself," Leslie interjected. "I believe he understands wanting to lay low. He's been here for weeks, you know."

"You're right," Bruce exhaled slowly. He ran a hand through his hair, considering what steps he would need to go through to accommodate this new change. "I can't very well isolate myself from them now."

"I'd advise against pulling away. They need to see how Bruce Wayne has changed so they can trust you." Leslie agreed. "You'll have to continue to step out. Engage with Cora, at the very least. We'll have to be careful though, if you don't want them to know the extent of your injuries."

He didn't. The short term memory problem, his back, his knees...all of it had to be either invisible or minimized. "I was in Bane's prison, perhaps had a little trouble being a good inmate and received some beatings?"

"That's plenty, for now," Leslie nodded.

"Annette is a trained nurse," Selina noted, frowning. "She'll notice we're not being truthful about your health."

"I'll try harder."

"Bruce, you're doing everything you can. You're working harder than any patient I've ever had." Leslie retorted. "If she ends up being as observant as her father, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Then it's time. I should talk to him, even if my explanation will be a bit vague for now." Bruce limped to his chair, leaning heavily on his cane. "Before I'm hit with a migraine again or you have to explain this to me all over."

* * *

Selina eased herself onto the eastern ledge of the roof, more relaxed than she had been the entire day as she peered from the heights to the streets below. Yesterday, her plans had changed with the onset of Bruce's migraine, his need for "fresh air," and then the discovery by Fredericks. While Bruce played Candyland with Cora, she'd promptly postponed 'Ms. Catherine Asher's' appointment with Mr. Lucius Fox until the next day. From all that went on, Selina had had only thirty minutes to spare this morning, which wasn't much. She'd accomplished all she could while Gotham was set in darkness. Considering she'd be waiting on the commissioner, he probably would do his best not to be late after receiving the token she'd left on his chair.

Her eyes swept upward as she fought the urge to walk along the ledge. Better to stay put in the shadows until Gordon arrived. The cityscape flickered brilliantly and looked no worse for wear at this hour. Selina knew differently though, but it was almost a respite from the three weeks or so that she'd endured worrying, playing nurse, listening, prodding, coaching, informing - and repeating.

A text came across her phone screen. Her heart sunk as Leslie informed her that Bruce's condition had gone from a manageable headache back to an incapacitating migraine earlier in the night, and was now sedated. The day had been too much for him. Of course, Bruce wouldn't admit it, and neither would Selina to his face. He'd done well giving Fredericks a brief explanation of his "time" in Bane's prison. He'd done well to craft a believable story, Selina through ruefully, because he had been in Bane's prison. His attention to detail was remarkable and the emotion played well for Bruce's so-called change of heart.

Still, it drained the mental spark he'd gained little by little; and now his recurring migraine had come again full force after all of his headway. Bruce's appointment could not come soon enough. Leslie was encouraged to know that the Wayne genes could very likely be the cause of Bruce's migraines and not necessarily the damage Bane had inflicted. However, Selina still was just as - if not a little more - concerned about his migraines than she was his short term memory loss, for the latter was improving. Leslie's concern had risen for his migraines, as well, and that worried Selina all the more.

Footsteps sounded up the stairway and Selina swiftly left her spot on the ledge to fall into the shadows of another corner. Gordon had arrived earlier than she expected and leaned against part of the rooftop ledge. His hands balanced papers, a binder, and coffee, but he ignored them all. His sigh hinted of his fatigue and frustration but he watched the cityscape much like Selina had a moment ago.

The ex-thief let out a quiet, exasperated sigh as her nerves began to get the best of her. When Gordon turned his head and jerked to attention in his astonishment, she decided it'd been worth the two days' effort to fulfill Bruce's wish.

Gordon touched the new bat symbol, his face revealing pure delight. Selina closed her eyes and breathed deeply but her muscles refused to uncoil. The signal surely told him that Bruce wanted Gordon to know that Batman was alive. And Selina hesitated, unwilling to rain on his parade.

A split second before Gordon realized she was cloaked behind him in the disappearing shadows of the night, Selina almost backed out. But then he turned, and Selina hadn't the heart to let Bruce down.

"Did you do this for him?"

"He asked me, yes."

"He told me he's alive of his own accord." Gordon tapped the light in his relief. "Alive. Do you know what this means?"

"I do. But there's more."

Gordon took a second glance at Selina. "He's not completely recovered, is he? It's been only a couple of weeks since I saw him last."

"He's improved, but he needs your help. We need your help if we want to continue treating him in the best way."

Gordon never wavered. "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

Instead of intruding on Bruce's privacy, Gordon opted to stand in the doorway and watch him from afar. Even asleep with body and mind broken, Wayne waxed intimidation with his new disguise. The commissioner cracked a saddened smile thinking how definitively agile and ruthless the former Wayne had been compared to this one, who underneath a peaceful rest struggled to live a normal life. A necessary and successful disguise; so much that even Gordon only caught a faint glimpse of the former billionaire - the one who had bombarded headlines with reckless driving and house burning and who had showed off clusters of women at his side with a casual air. Bruce's face as well as his body, slightly thinner than he'd seen the day they entrapped Nurse Beth, carried none of the arrogance or other missing pieces that created his necessary playboy image.

According to both Miss Kyle and Dr. Thompkins, Bruce planned on never having to play that part again, either. He'd declared his retirement. He was finished. Done. Moving on. The physician's explanation that Bruce was one blow from the head from an even graver injury wasn't a shock to Gordon. Neither was the fact that Bruce couldn't return to being Batman because of his physical condition.

"Really, Commissioner. You can come in," Dr. Thompkins called to him from Wayne's bedside. "He's out like a light and you won't disturb him."

"I'll remain here, thank you."

"You know he'd want you to come right in," she said softly. "It makes no difference to him."

"I'll wait."

"Take as much time as you want," Leslie said quietly as she moved past him to exit the room. Gordon took one step into the room, bending under the weight of his own knee and the indecision to approach. He leaned against the wall instead to anchor himself as he processed the words from Miss Kyle the night before.

_"What do you need me to do?"_

_It probably wasn't the response Miss Kyle expected. It wasn't what Gordon had expected to fly out of his mouth, either. It was painful, learning that the Batman was human like the rest of them. It was painful, learning that the indestructible symbol was as excruciatingly vulnerable as any other man, and that he needed their assistance. The words out of his own mouth pulled him out of his self-pity._

_"Take a few days off in a week or so. I'll need help when we travel to see a trauma specialist. I can't simultaneously care for Bruce in a safe manner and take care of the minute details too."_

_"You?"_

_"Leslie can't leave the clinic. Bruce doesn't want her to either, because she's the one who runs a safe place catering to the least of Gotham's citizens. You already know that I've been taking care of him every day for over three weeks now. I know what he needs and he's at ease with me." Miss Kyle pressed her lips together, eyes challenging him to say otherwise. "So yes, I'll be the one accompanying him."_

_"I'll make sure it happens," Gordon said. He'd seen strange things, but the senator's kidnapper becoming the Batman's proficient primary caretaker ranked pretty high up on the list. "Thank you, Miss Kyle."_

_"Good. Come by around nine. I guarantee he won't be up, between suffering from a migraine much of the day and Leslie's penchant for keeping him heavily sedated at night. At least you'll get to see him. And the next time, I promise things will seem better."_

Bruce's hand twitched. Gordon jolted to attention, suddenly ashamed of himself. Hadn't it been Wayne himself who'd visited Gordon in the hospital, going directly to his bedside wearing a ridiculous ski mask?

Gordon pushed aside his conflicting emotions, an odd mixture of trepidation, fear, relief, and awkwardness, and did what he should have done the instant he came into the room. He pulled up a chair, and with a hand covering Bruce's, extended his friendship in the same way Bruce had done to Gordon more than half a year ago. He squeezed his hand for a second, and then let go. It was a gentle reminder to himself that although their paths might not cross as they had before, distance would not define their friendship. Gordon would do whatever he could and help Bruce move past Gotham.

_My friend, we are still two._

* * *

Selina yawned, feeling every bit of the sleepless night she'd had. She'd tried to sneak another hour in before Leslie made her rounds, but it had hardly been without effort. Selina walked into Bruce's room, another yawn replacing the good morning she'd opened her mouth to say to the commissioner. Unembarrassed, she blamed Bruce for her newly acquired relaxed nature around his friends. _The twenty-four hours shifts at the clinic must be getting to my head._

"I didn't sleep much either," Gordon murmured as he stood from his chair.

"At least one of us did." Selina sighed, glancing at her patient. "The one who needs it more than either of us."

She picked up the black bag on the floor, garnering immediate interest from Gordon.

"You're not staying?"

"I've an appointment with Mr. Fox today." She inwardly smiled at seeing the charming man with the wit that already endeared him to her. "But Leslie will be covering for me this morning."

"I assume you are informing Mr. Fox of Mister Wayne's resurrection?"

"We're sure he already knows Bruce is alive, considering Bruce had to have fixed the auto pilot to survive, even if he doesn't remember doing so. Yesterday, Bruce was up to the challenge to discuss it before his migraine hit."

"Bruce managed to stay on task that well? I'm..." Gordon shook his head and sighed, "...encouraged to hear that."

The commissioner glanced at the black bag again - it was awkward and large and intriguing - but Selina purposefully avoided any talk about it. Who knew what Gordon would think or feel about Blake being offered the chance to take up the mantle?

"His short term memory extended more than ever yesterday. He thrived as we expected," Selina continued, her lips curving into a smile as she recalled Bruce's vitality. It had been nothing short of amazing, considering all the hurdles in his way. "But from there, things went downhill. Gordon, there's something else. Mr. Fredericks… he saw Bruce and looked a bit too closely. He knows."

Gordon muttered something under his breath. It was a complication none of them wanted.

Fredericks told Bruce yesterday how he knew - _When you played with Cora, your eyes filled with compassion just like your father's did when he spoke to his young patients. You sounded just like him._

"How did he react? He must keep this under wraps. I need to talk with him."

"I already told him that you knew and it may be the very reason that he agreed to keep quiet."

"I will talk to him this morning. In fact, before Bruce awakens. Has he asked questions as to why...?"

"Some," Selina frowned. "Bruce kept it vague, only explaining he was in a prison of sorts, which is part of the truth."

"He was in a prison?"

Selina gave a short nod. "But that's Bruce's story to tell. Not mine."

"I understand. Is it always like this?" Gordon asked. Selina knew exactly to what he referred. The sitting, the waiting, the enduring, the testing, the wondering- around the clock, all for Bruce.

"Yes."

Gordon became calm and collected once again. "I'll be here, then."

* * *

Wayne Enterprises had somehow managed to maintain its decadent, rich look despite Bane's recent occupation in the city and the wrought havoc on many businesses and buildings. Wearing a comfortable, black business suit, her heels clicked across the floor. The front doors had received a touch of new paint and the brass sides shined as Selina walked through them. Few milled in the lobby, however, and the receptionist's countenance had seen better days. The somber mood clashed with how Selina had perceived the building, and something unsettling stirred in the pit of her stomach as she finally stood, waiting to be ushered in to see Mr. Fox.

She saw Bruce - everywhere. He was beside her; at the front desk, walking along through the corridor, traveling in the elevator. She imagined him flirting with the women, playing up his other mask. She'd never seen him face to face in the midst of that facade. She didn't think that he'd quite lived up to his image that night at the ball. As she pondered someday of seeing that flirtatious side of him, she practically purred in delight. She realized that his handprint was indeed upon this company, but was now sadly distorted and misrepresented. And she'd had a part. More than a part. She had a huge chunk in the making of Wayne's downfall. His legacy - practically shattered. Selina clutched Blake's bag, allowing the handle to dig into her skin and hoping that it would cut out the guilt. She waited, losing herself in the depths of guilt, until a door opened.

"Miss Asher." A grinning Mr. Fox lightened her soul but it took her a full five seconds to nod politely and offer at least a partial smile in return. "Please, come in."

"Thank you." Selina slipped past him. "I appreciate you taking the time to meet me on such short notice."

The pleasantry wasn't necessary to their actual meeting, but it was necessary to her, to keep her grounded. He welcomed her into his studious but uncluttered office. Selina stood, not wanting to take a seat. Mr. Fox stood as well, but now behind his desk, hands pressed on the wood as he leaned forward.

"Miss Asher," he said, gaze direct and kind. "Let me just assume that we both know he is alive."

She gave a curt nod.

"And well?"

She tightened her lips, unwilling to utter a single word about Bruce's well-being. Mr. Fox eyed her silently for a moment and as worry filled his expression, she recomposed herself as quickly as possible.

"Mr. Fox," she cleared her throat. "Bruce wanted to give this to John Blake. He asked me to see if you'd be able to deliver this package."

"He has good timing, as always," Mr. Fox replied smoothly, taking the bag from her hands. "We are settling his affairs now. Is he able to settle all of his?"

"He will." Selina hesitated, hearing Mr. Fox's underlying question- how is Bruce? She wanted to sit down and have an enjoyable chat with Mr. Fox instead of the grievous one she saw forthcoming. She maneuvered to perch in the chair she'd been offered prior to revealing the information she'd prepared. "I've been helping care for him these past few weeks as his short-term memory has suffered. He doesn't remember what happened since the day he saved Gotham. His knees bother him… and his back. His memory is improving a little each day, but he gets these...headaches."

It was a mouthful of words she hoped Mr. Fox would not want to dissect. He watched her for a moment, his eyes suddenly bright and startling.

"He's lucky after all, isn't he?" Mr. Fox's grin, full of sincerity and confidence, found what she could not sequester away.

She unleashed that tiny part of herself that hadn't been consumed by her endless guilt and gave a small laugh, unattended and free. Away from Bruce, but still with him. Because she was here, wasn't she? Where his legacy would still live and breathe, thanks to this man before her.

"Miss Asher," Mr. Fox returned to his chair. Selina relaxed for the first time in days, her skin feeling truly like her own. "Whatever else you have to tell me, it can wait."

He paused, his smile widening and drawing Selina into its comfort.

"How would you like to take a tour?"


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's Note:_ I apologize if the last chapter wasn't up to par- I did have difficulty with it. Fortunately, I feel completely different about this chapter. :-) I think I said this before, but I am so excited we are at this point of the story...crossing my fingers you feel the same. The next few chapters were refreshing for me to write. Thank you so much for reviewing and following along. I like to reply to each review but could not return a private message to a couple of them. So...to my guest reviewer: I will just say regarding your question that I, too, can only see Bruce Wayne as Batman. No one else. And to nemoli: Thank you so much for your kind words! They made me smile. :-)

* * *

The time had finally come. Selina sensed Gordon's anticpation as they entered Bruce's room. Beside her, Gordon's breath caught at his first sight of Gotham's hero in his true form, without disguise. Selina stood, momentarily speechless herself to see Bruce in street clothes - and black ones, at that - for the first time in weeks.

"Miss Selina Kyle," Bruce drawled with a carefree smile.

Bruce sat in his chair beside the bed, towel drying his hair. His own hair came just above his shoulders, not quite the length of the black wig and ponytail but naturally streaked with a subtle gray. Selina's stomach quivered as her head and heart unfailingly acknowledged her attraction to him. He'd just showered, obviously, and wore a black t-shirt and shorts that revealed the repercussions of his battles with Bane. It also showed his troubling weight loss of fourteen pounds and the well-sculpted muscles despite his weeks recuperating. Her attention moved beyond the injuries to the way Bruce made her heart race.

"Selina, you're a sight for sore eyes," Bruce grinned at her. "I couldn't wait for you to get here. It's been months. Although, I have the impression...or feeling...that you were here with me just yesterday."

Leslie shook her head, taking the towel from Bruce's hand. "You've seen her 'for the first time in months' a hundred times already, Bruce."

"One of the perks of short-term memory loss-the spectacular sight of a gorgeous woman in one's hospital room for the first time, over and over again." Bruce didn't lose his smile as he looked to the man beside her. "Gordon."

"Bruce Wayne," Gordon took off his gloves, walking over beside Bruce. Gordon reached out his hand, and Bruce followed suit. "I am very glad to see you."

Bruce said nothing but maintained his authentic smile. A look of gratitude and fondness passed between the two men as they were able to greet each other, disguise set aside. But in a moment, Bruce's smile slipped so slightly that Selina wouldn't have noticed except for the hand that hesitated. She watched him concentrate his efforts to keep his hand down at his side and not travel to the place which pained him. Leslie caught on before Selina uttered a single word.

"Take a seat, Commissioner." Leslie motioned to the empty chair at the end of Bruce's bed. "Bruce, what's bothering you?"

Bruce flattened his mouth. "It's nothing."

He stood as if to prove his point and limped to the bed. Leslie was there waiting, eyes scolding him as he sat on the edge of the bed with an uncharacteristic awkwardness. A darker spot already showed through the front of his clean shirt. His jaw clenched, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable.

Selina slipped beside him as Leslie pulled the pillows from the bed. "What's wrong?" She murmured.

"My back," he hunched slightly, wincing.

Leslie pursed his lips. "Someone was a bit determined this morning and ignored the fact he has a tenderness in his side and chronic back pain."

"You overdid it, didn't you." Selina accused him.

"I was doing fine," Bruce's protest sounded with a groan. "It's what I always do to work through pain, and the doctor said...very light exercise."

"You know by saying that you just admitted you've done this before, even if you can't remember? I should've known. It would explain how well you're doing - plus this pain. What you did wasn't light at all," Leslie complained, helping Bruce into a brace. "You need to rest, Bruce."

Selina hated to ask, but she did, anyways. "Wayne, what did you do?"

"Pushups." He said matter of factly. "Far fewer than my normal routine. I got to twenty and then, well..."

"You shouldn't have even gotten to one, let alone twenty," Leslie muttered. "I know you do the impossible, but you have to draw the line somewhere, Bruce."

Bruce's admission stung, for she knew why his back ached. She had no comeback, and lifted her hand from his wrist with care, staring down in misery. Leslie had never spoken of Bruce's back injury, and neither had Bruce except for one time. It was the elephant in the room, and Selina never wished to discuss it with a man wrought with a memory malfunction. She swallowed uncomfortably. Before she moved away from him, a hand grasped her own wrist.

"It's not your fault," Bruce whispered, his fingers loosely grasped her arm. She didn't want to see or hear his forgiveness but his voice demanded her attention. "Selina, it's not your fault."

"The hell it isn't, Wayne," she hissed, fighting with everything she had from losing herself in those gentle, compassionate eyes. "Stop being so noble. Did you misplace some brain cells along with those memories?" Bruce's eyes widened and filled with hurt.

"Selina." Even Gordon's eyes went straight to the doctor at Leslie's sharp voice. "I don't know what is going on with you two, but now is not the time. I need to finish things up here."

"I take it...we haven't discussed..." Bruce sighed. "What we should have discussed a long time ago."

"No," Selina said tightly. "We haven't."

"Would you...want to?" Bruce hesitated. "Now?"

"I don't know." Her quite answer surprised even her.

"Would you like a little bit of time to think before talking, if you do want to talk about it?"

"I've thought about it more than I ever wanted to or should have."

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," Selina looked away, angry with herself and the world around her. "Of course you'd say you're sorry for something that I did to you."

"You didn't do it. Bane did."

"There's more to it than that, but I don't know if I can ever discuss it."

"When you're ready, I'm willing," he said softly. "But I have to discuss it with Leslie."

"No," her eyes snapped to meet his.

"I have to. It's time. As my physician, she should know exactly what happened. I suppose I've waited too long as it is."

Not once had Selina ever seen such a sudden and fierce change in Wayne's expression nor his accompanying intense look directed at her before. It struck fear in her heart of him, and not for the first time. She swore to herself she'd do anything to take back what she'd done to him. Nothing on earth would ever make up for her grievances.

"I'll go get your breakfast, then." It was a weak excuse but anything to get her out of the room before she embarrassed herself further. She didn't mean to turn the tables on him, and her guilt rose when he looked at her, confused. "You haven't eaten yet this morning."

"I see. Selina," Bruce furrowed his brow. "Please. Stay. I don't need breakfast. I'd rather talk with you. I'll wait to discuss it with Leslie."

"I need a minute, Bruce." He was too forgiving, too kind...too much for her to ever think he'd fall for a woman like her. "I really do. I will be back. It'll give you time, at least. But, I'll return."

She stressed the last three words, hoping Bruce caught her meaning. His soft smile said he did.

* * *

Selina delayed her return to Bruce's room, now silently pouring her heart out to a frosted window at the end of one of the corridors and wanting to lose herself in the blizzard which befell Gotham only hours earlier. Taking this 'detour' perhaps wasn't a fair choice to Bruce and what had to be an empty stomach, but when did she ever play fair? She sacrificed to remain in Gotham, and she sacrificed even more to help Bruce Wayne. She told herself she'd already paid her price, an emotional agony since her betrayal that had now reached a peak she could no longer handle.

Her time was up, whether or not she was in the room for Bruce to explain. Let him throw her to the wolves without her being present, if indeed he wanted to explain his injury. It was only right that Bruce inform his doctor the truth about his back injury. Her reaction damned her, so he would most likely share the part she played- and sugar coat it- for the sake of Gordon and Leslie's understanding. Gordon and Leslie may eventually see it the way Bruce did, but Selina wasn't ignorant to gut reactions.

She trudged to Bruce's room as if the very snowstorm raging outside ravaged her path. She'd dug her grave, no matter how many days she'd spent helping Bruce. At least handing the drink to Bruce gave her something to do and guaranteed she wouldn't be shot on the spot.

She knocked on his door, heard the lock release, and found herself in the midst of a stony silence. Bruce, with an impossibly relaxed and boyish grin, was the only one who lifted eyes her way. And although Leslie squeezed her arm in support, her heart wouldn't stop racing.

"You're back," Bruce said.

"Here, Bruce," she said blandly and handed Bruce his smoothie. "Write down that this was your breakfast."

"Thanks. I'm glad you're back." He smiled and proceeded to drink it down in a ridiculous short time of five seconds, then set it on his tray with a satisfied sigh.

"Bruce." Selina hated to remind him, and it worried her that he took a moment to remember.

"Right."

He still didn't move to document his breakfast. And his lap and tray were empty, save the mug. From the corner of her eye, she saw the journal nestled within the commissioner's hand. Selina shook her head slightly at Gordon to indicate he shouldn't give it to Bruce.

"Do you...know where your journal is?"

He shrugged. If not for how devastating it truly was, the sheepish look on his face was downright adorable. "No. Guess not."

"Okay," she began quietly. "Did you give it to someone to look at?"

Bruce crossed his arms and let out a heavy sigh. "Not sure about that, but it's a good possibility."

"Why is it a good possibility?" She pulled the other vacant near to his bed and sat, her heart breaking. The timing of her return was poor. It would be downhill from here and there was nothing she could do about it. She shouldn't have abandoned him right before he planned to explain what happened to his back. She knew it'd be difficult - but she left anyways in a purely selfish decision. Leslie had been right - he needed her.

"Because...it would help when we...when..." Bruce stared at her, his eyes betraying him before he could speak. Selina reached for Bruce's hand, and he took it like it was a lifeline, even though he continued to stare at her as if he'd not seen her for almost six months, just as he remembered. She saw it then, the hint of recognition. "Selina, I'm confused."

"I know, and I'll explain what parts are missing. But why don't you tell me what you do remember."

"I think I'm missing a lot. But...we are planning to go somewhere, to find help. And you...and me...we're..." His eyes widened ever so slightly and his lips curved into a lazy grin. "Well, what do you know."

Leslie fought a smile. "You two..."

"Bruce." Selina wasn't altogether certain she liked this going public, if telling Leslie and Gordon was going public. If whatever "this" was could be even defined right now. Wayne's more complicated than I am, she thought ruefully. "Maybe we shouldn't discuss that right now."

His grin broadened. "Are you uncomfortable about something, Miss Kyle?"

"Not at all, handsome." Oh, he looked smug but she had the upperhand. "I prefer you to stay at the task at hand."

"You really are the responsible one in our relationship." His eyes sparkled.

Of all the insignificant things for him to remember.

"It's not a...it's...I really don't know what we have, Wayne, it's difficult to figure that out when you can't remem...when we have much to discuss."

How could it truly be a relationship when neither of them confessed to have feelings towards the other? When so much stood in their way before declaring affection? It seemed impossible that they managed to draw a little closer and give to each other in the subtle ways like they had.

"It's something, or I wouldn't have remembered, right?"

She threw him an exasperated look. He had to let this go, or they'd get nowhere with his therapy.

"We can't talk about it right now, Bruce. Will you get back to piecing together your memory? It's important."

He frowned. "But I-"

"Bruce," she said impatiently.

He silently crossed his arms, mirroring her own exasperation.

"You're evenly matched as far as stubbornness, I think," Leslie interjected. "She has a point, Bruce. You need to stay on task."

"So, I see I am not going to win here," his mouth dipped into a slight frown. "Alright. I'll stay on task."

"Good," Selina said. "Do you know remember why Gordon is here?

"Gordon..." Bruce's eyes shone with pleasant surprise. "I must have told you who I was. I wanted to. Is that why you're here?"

Gordon stood and went to the other side of the bed, carefully placed the journal and folder on Bruce's lap.

"You certainly did, and I'm still amazed. Bruce, take your time reading what's inside this journal. I'll be sitting in that chair, waiting to talk when you're ready. Miss Kyle will be sitting here with you, able to answer any of your questions. You can continue to trust her and believe in her like you always have..." Gordon paused. He glanced at her and Selina would never forget the gratitude reflecting from his eyes. "She's taken great care with you."

* * *

Bruce broke into a wide, eager smile when he saw the items Selina held in her hands. He reached for them before she even set them down on his bed. According to his notes, they'd arrived a few days earlier than expected, three days after he spoke with Gordon. His appointment was in two days, but they would leave tomorrow after Fox came for a brief visit in the morning.

"You want to leave this place so badly you can't wait for me to explain some things?" She raised an eyebrow.

He gave a sheepish grin. Already, he had one brace firmly in his grip. "I just want to walk without limping and pain."

"Dr. Thompkins said a few things are different about these."

He turned the brace over in his hands, inspecting an even sleeker, more sophisticated design. "A few extra straps, that's all I see."

"It comes on your knee a lot harder than the other, she said. She also told me taking it off is no walk in the park and to suggest to you to think twice about using them."

He winced, remembering the depth of pain he'd experienced putting on his previous brace. But to have more pain? He'd not anticipated that, nor did he desire to feel that acute discomfort.

"I guess these are a bit painful to wear? Why don't you opt for the surgery?"

Why did surgery always have to the answer? He glanced at her in exasperation. "Surgery takes time. I don't have time."

"You have all the time in the world, now, Bruce."

"I've heard of these injections. Trial injections, either here in the states or in Europe."

"Europe," she murmured. "You'd go to Europe for trial injections in your knee?"

He nodded. "I've wanted to find my way there eventually. It's what Alf-"

His hands stilled around the brace. Alfred. In Italy. Something about a cafe...a letter.

"The letter," he whispered.

"You remembered something, didn't you?" Selina's hand touched his arm. Her hand curled around his forearm, naturally and without hesitation.

"How long have I been here?"

"Four weeks."

He lifted his eyes towards hers, crushed that it'd taken him so long to remember at least part of what had delayed him from speaking with Alfred. _The letter._ Nothing in his notes ever spoke of a letter. Had he truly forgotten until now?

"I'm a fool," he muttered. Losing the man who was like a father to him, all for a letter from a woman he'd never been in love with in the first place. Love. He hadn't understood it before, but now...now he could almost believe it truly existed. Selina watched him like a hawk, to the point that Bruce worried she'd read his mind. If he was this close to thinking himself in love with this woman, he was doomed. Bruce had to assume that Selina would leave in a heartbeat if she knew how he felt.

"Talk to him," she whispered, fingers caressing his bearded cheek. He'd begged for the clean shaven look again but Leslie and Selina denied it for the day, wanting him to continue to opt for secrecy and disguise.

"I can't."

"Don't be so stubborn."

"It's...complicated."

"It doesn't have to be, does it?" Selina's fingers trailed down to his neck and his chest. "Bruce."

He shook his head and placed the brace around his knee. He had to do this now, or he wasn't going to walk out of the clinic. Selina stepped back as the screech of the mechanism came into play and the brace contracted. Bruce gritted his teeth but couldn't suppress a groan as pain flooded his knee.

"Oh my God," Selina exclaimed. "No."

Seconds passed, the crunching louder than ever. Bruce gasped for breath as the brace settled around his injured, worthless knee. He pounded his bed once with a fist and uttered a soft curse.

"No. Bruce..."

He grimaced, wishing he'd waited until she was out of the room before putting on the brace.

"No." Her voice, angry and shocked, filled the room. "I can't watch this."

"You just did," he muttered, finding himself in a fairly foul mood. Dr. Thompkins had been right. More straps. More straps meant more pain. Unable to suppress it, he groaned again. And then the pain faded and he was left with one more brace to place around his other knee.

"I can't watch this," Selina repeated, her face turning a shade paler.

"So don't." He exhaled a breath, determinedly reaching for the other brace and confident that she'd leave the room. He had to do this now or he'd lose the courage.

"This is how you walked? This is what you did to yourself to go after Bane?"

"I had to."

"You need to have surgery, not torture yourself needlessly with some barbaric contraption who knows how many times."

"It's not barbaric," he argued, looking up at her again. He startled. Her eyes were wide with horror, her face tight with obvious displeasure at what he'd done.

"I can't watch you do this again. And I can't leave knowing you'll put yourself through this another time."

He exhaled slowly and made a decision he knew he'd eventually regret. With an exaggerated movement, he set the second brace aside. "I'm sorry. I'll leave this one off for now."

"Will you get the surgery? Or those injections. Please?"

"I can't, not yet," he answered honestly. "The recuperation required, and therapy...I don't even have a house that would be set up for something like that. Or someone to help me get around. Both in the house and to drive me where I need to go."

"All you need is a house." She looked at him wide-eyed and...unlike the Selina Kyle he knew.

"I can't let you stay just because I...I'm still injured." He bit back harsher words, even though he believed she needed to hear them. "You're not at fault, here."

"I know."

"Do you?" He stood, testing his leg. It felt good, a hundred percent better than the other. But, for her, he refrained from donning the other brace. "This was not your fault. Both legs lack cartilage. My left leg also sustained an injury when I fell from a building, after I rescued Jimmy Gordon from Harvey Dent. It has nothing to do with you. You kicked the cane from under a man who was already injured. You didn't cause this."

"I know," she whispered. "And like I said, all you need is a house."

"You'd stay, and help me recuperate. Again?" He asked, feeling laid bare as he posed the question. She could say no, and he had to admit, the answer would crush him.

"I'm saying I'd stay to help you get the treatment you need, whether it's here or in Europe. Because I want to." She breathed, eyes fixed soley on his. Whatever passed between them in the moment Bruce vowed to cherish for as long as he could remember. Something was changing, and although neither of them spoke of it, the change came willing from the both of them.

She grabbed his notes, and wrote quickly. After she handed him the paper, he couldn't bring himself to look at it. Sure, it was written, but would she keep this promise? Although he couldn't help himself from looking for the best in her, staying that long with him couldn't possibly be what she was planning to do.

"You don't believe me that I'll stay."

"I do." He couldn't allow himself to believe it. It already hurt too much just thinking of her disappearing from his life. "I just..."

"I keep promises, especially ones I make to you."

* * *

A text came an hour later, while Bruce's memory lingered and he hadn't needed a single minute to refresh his mind. He looked down at the woman sleeping beside him, her one arm draped over his chest, her lips tempting him again. Their kissing had tapered off because of Selina's exhaustion. It was almost amusing- he the cripple with an aching back and she the tired caregiver, both who before all this would never have had such excuses or stumbling blocks.

He'd had a lot of time to think on Selina's fatigue as he held her. After sorting through his notes again he realized she'd invested all her time in him for weeks. He'd never even asked where she was staying, but he believed it to be right there in the clinic.

He checked his phone after it sounded, reading a text from Blake with a smile.

_Would it have hurt to let a friend know you were alive before sending him through a waterfall and into your cave? I almost had a heart attack when the floor rose. At age 24. I'm here in the waiting room, by the way. Got time?_

He sent a quick reply. _Give me ten minutes. I'll come meet you_.

Bruce unwrapped his arms from around Selina and gently nudged her arm off of his body. She stirred, not fully opening her eyes until he'd changed from his shorts into long, loose fitting khaki pants and stood beside her.

"Hey," he said softly.

She blinked up at him, sleep still in her eyes. "Bruce, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"I didn't mind," he shrugged, sitting down beside her. He painfully pulled on his shoes, halting in his efforts.

"What are you doing?"

"Blake's here," he said carefully. It hit a sore spot, as he knew it would.

"Oh." She sat up instantly. "I should go."

"He's going to walk around the clinic with me. You can sleep here. It's no problem."

She sighed and moved forward, leaning against his shoulder. "No, you don't need to be moving more than you have to. You may want this room to talk in private."

"I'm not exactly an invalid any more."

"You're still recuperating from that stab wound and you have two bum knees even with a brace, whether you like it or not, Mr. Wayne. Not to mention the chronic pain issues with your back."

"I can get around just fine." He hated not putting on that second brace, but for her, he'd left it alone.

"And your memory?"

"Worried about me a little?" He asked in a casual tone.

"It's been several hours," she said warily. "That usually means you're about to forget everything."

"I'll be fine. It's been only what...like twice you had to fill me in? I'll be fine. Really." He shrugged. "And you'll be right here if I need you."

"I'd feel better if you stay here where it's at least somewhat familiar to you. You're not risking anyone else recognizing you, either. I'll give you ten minutes. Then I'm coming."

"Selina. Fredericks was too observant, yes, but we've had no other problems. Stay here. Rest." He furrowed his brow. "Where have you been sleeping, by the way? All this time?"

"I'm coming in ten minutes, handsome, whether you want me to, or not. And I've been staying here."

"Where, Selina?"

"In the janitor's closet."

"In the..._closet_?" He stared at her, appalled. "For...for a...a month?"

"I've slept in worse places, and it's not that bad. I have privacy and it's not too far from your room."

He stood, sending a text immediately to Leslie. "That has got to change."

Selina frowned. "It's fine. I like it."

"No, you don't." He retorted.

"It's better than a lot of people have."

"True. But it's...a closet." Bruce ran a hand through his hair, wondering how he could be so selfish not to have inquired about this weeks ago, memory issues aside. "And...I have a bed."

"I have a bed. It's a cot."

"_I_ have a room and a real bed. You have a...a closet and a piece of wire with hardly a cushion, I imagine." Bruce was deeply disturbed. Selina was sacrificing not only her time and energy but any sort of luxury as well, luxury being loosely defined.

"A closet and a cot are perfectly fine with me. Let it go, Bruce."

"If I can find you a room with a bed, will you sleep there instead? Please?"

"Will you promise me you won't wear yourself walking? And take those pills with you. You need to take the medication soon." She indicated her head to his stand. He grudgingly pocketed them. "And, don't forget. You have a date this afternoon."

"I won't wear myself out walking, if you promise that you'll quit sleeping in a closet and sleep in a room with a real bed. About that date. I remember. You wrote it down for me. I am going to see a little girl with green eyes who beats me at Candyland."

"Do you promise?"

Bruce paused at the door, cane in hand and contemplating that they sounded very much like what he imagined an old married couple to sound like. It was a curious but pleasing thought.

"I do."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note**: Aww...I am truly thankful for the reviews that have been given. I am especially thankful this story has been enjoyed. You have no idea the amount of happiness you have placed in my heart. :-)

ETA: For those looking for Alfred (and that list includes me, too! ha!)...don't despair. You know he'll show up here eventually. It just has to be the right time. And also, there may be a little reprise of the Bat, or at least Bruce able to be more like himself. Coming sooner than ya think. Hope that eases your mind. :-) Also- any details I fit in this chapter are debatable, especially in the first scene, and will be hard to pin down because of Bruce's condition and what he experienced with Nurse Beth. Before I say too much, I'll sign off. :-)

* * *

Bruce stretched his legs out in front of him, taking another cursory glance around the spacious rec room. They were alone except for a man in the opposite corner playing a card game and a mom with her two children watching television. Alone was good, but even better was the sense of freedom flowing through his veins.

"I wondered how you got rid of that limp the first time. How does it feel to put it on? Does it hurt?" Blake eyed Bruce's leg curiously, even though the brace was covered.

"A little."

"That bad, huh?"

Bruce grimaced at the memory that had, strangely enough, stuck with him. Countering that, however, was the precious memory of Selina proclaiming her desire to remain with him indefinitely. He sighed. The indefinite amount of time wasn't enough for him. "I didn't put the other one on yet."

"I don't blame you. So, what are you going to do about your knees?"

"I'm not sure. I'd like to get my memory back first."

Blake leaned on the table, frowning at him. "I'm a little surprised Dr. Thompkins didn't accompany you out here."

Bruce smiled and rested his cane against the table. "It is improving. Not as fast as I'd like, but I'm not complaining. It helps that I have a beautiful nurse."

"Is that so?" Blake laughed. "What's her name?"

"Asher," Bruce said slowly as his date for later in the afternoon entered the rec room with her mother. They didn't see him as they settled on a couch, looking ready to begin reading from a pile of books in Annette's arms. "Catherine Asher. But I call her Cat."

"Seriously? And she's a nurse?" Blake smirked.

Bruce didn't answer, now having seen Fredericks strolling into the rec room and head towards their table. He was glad to see Mr. Fredericks, especially as the board member had regained much of his health, but there was the risk of Bruce's own health coming clearer.

"Blake," Bruce muttered under his breath, "If I appear to have trouble with my memory, get me out of here before anyone notices."

"Sure. I recognize him," Blake said quietly. "Are you having trouble?"

"Not yet." Bruce fought his knee jerk reaction - plastering a billion dollar smile to hide his worry. Fredericks, Bruce had discovered, spoke his mind even outside a business setting. He'd call him on it.

"Good afternoon," Fredericks nodded to Bruce.

"Mr. Fredericks, this is John Blake," Bruce relaxed a little as he grinned at Blake. "A good friend of mine."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Blake shook his hand.

"You look familiar," Fredericks murmured.

Blake cleared his throat. "I was a police officer until very recently."

Bruce blinked. "Was?"

"Yes," Blake hesitated. "Was."

"You didn't tell me that."

"I know," Blake sighed. "I gave up the badge a few weeks ago."

Bruce clenched his jaw. That had been a rash decision. "And you thought that over well?"

Blake stared at him in challenge. "Well enough and even now I have no doubts."

"And Gordon?"

"Feels the same as you, I imagine. I haven't talked to him since...well...since..."

"Since when?" Bruce knew before Blake spoke the words.

"Your funeral."

"And that...is when..." Bruce trailed off and took a hasty breath. "You turned in your badge then?"

"No, a few days before."

Feeling sick that his 'death' had some influence on Blake's decision, Bruce was at a loss for words.

"And now I have the time to come here and visit you," Blake continued smoothly.

"As much as I appreciate that, I am sorry to hear you turned in your badge."

_The Bat is armed and ready to fly, but this time for a different purpose. He'll take it over the bay. He has no other choice._

"Look," Blake sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you mention it earlier. I know...I know it's unexpected, but for now the decision is made. And I am happy to help you however I can, now that I know you're here. It's the least that I can do for all you've done for me. And it's a priority over anything else. You gave me a lot to think about and someday we can discuss it...but I don't want to yet. Not until you're better."

"I don't need repaid for anything, John." Bruce's discomfort rose as Fredericks witnessed their emotional exchange and he struggled to follow what Blake said.

_Bruce clips the wire to the bomb. No autopilot, he says. Alfred was right, he thinks. Selina's voice rasies in panic, her eyes reflect horror. Yes, they were suckers, but he knew she'd be back. His heart skips a beat when she unexpectedly pulls him close for a last kiss._

"I know you think that way, but friends help each other out."

Bruce nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning on his elbows at the table. He covered his face with his hands as he attempted to pull himself together. He exhaled a long breath, picturing Blake at his funeral. The image settled distastefully in his stomach. His friends had been there. His funeral had been weeks ago, and all Bruce had done was waste his time in a clinic with a faulty memory, forgoing whatever plans he'd made for himself in the first place.

"I'm sorry. I...I...didn't know it would bother you...all that...much." Blake faltered.

_His gut clenches at the controls. He doesn't know if he will be able to save Gotham, let alone his own life. He let it be like he was going to his death._

_For a split second over the bay he doesn't even know if he wants to try to save himself._

"Are you alright?" Fredericks asked as Bruce's memory hit a dead end.

Stuck. That's what he was. Stuck in a place he still didn't understand, not even with these glimpses. Glimpses, that's all they were. Not the whole story, and certainly lacking of context. He still had nothing to offer Selina. Not when he was stuck - with pain, with loss of both memory and purpose...

"Should I get Dr. Thompkins?"

"No. No, I'm fine," Bruce set his hands down on the table to brace himself as he stood. He grasped his cane and limped a step away, giving his aching knee a test. He'd sat too long. Somehow, he had to move forward. "I just remembered something,"

"You did?" Blake straightened in his chair, eyes hopeful.

"I need a cup of coffee."

* * *

Selina didn't wait ten minutes. He wouldn't last that long, despite his obvious desire for freedom. He was getting too antsy to be kept in the clinic and she worried. He couldn't be caged if his memory was returning, even if he did suffer from debilitating migraines. She wanted him to be comfortable and close to the best care but the clinic was shrinking.

To be honest, it had already shrunk for her. She snuck in a run now, a late one. She rarely slept longer than five hours a night. It was better for her to have at least an hour outside of the clinic so she could regain clarity. If she needed that hour, she couldn't imagine what Bruce needed, despite the fact he couldn't remember how long he'd been at the clinic.

She entered the rec room, halting to a stop upon seeing Blake at the table with Fredericks. Bruce was nowhere to be seen. Heart pounding, she turned, and almost ran into a cup of steaming dark liquid.

"Bruce," she breathed in relief.

"Came to check up on me?"

"Why are you carrying a cup of hot coffee when you are limping? And using a cane? Do you have no sense?"

"That's a nice how do you do," he said brightly.

"You don't even have a lid," she said, irritated. "Wait."

She retrieved the lid from the counter and took the coffee from him.

"Did you take your pills?" She pressed the lid down. _Foolish man._

"No?"

"Of course you didn't." He really did need a babysitter.

"I will once we get to the table." He began to walk, limping heavier than she'd like. "I haven't told him about you, so maybe...maybe you should wait here until I do."

"You really think he'll flip out?"

"I hope not."

"I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

"I just don't want him to make a scene."

Selina looked around the rec room, only spotting Annette and Cora. "We're practically alone."

"Everyone must have just left." He looked at her doubtfully. "If you're sure."

Her smile serene, she took his elbow and kept her expression calm and collected for when Blake finally noticed her presence.

"Let me guess," Blake muttered. "You're Cat. The nurse."

"I am," she said, never losing her smile.

"Have you retracted your claws?"

"John," Bruce warned. Blake had the decency to listen to Bruce's warning and remained quiet as she placed Bruce's coffee on the table. A moment passed as she waited to help him be seated, but Bruce stared at the chair as if it was entirely covered with blades and not a cushion.

"I think I'll just stand for now."

"It would be a good idea for you to take those pills. Then you'll be able to sit without too much pain."

"What pills?"

She opened her mouth to reply to his smart remark when she realized he wasn't teasing. "The ones in your pocket," she murmured, handing him the small water bottle she'd brought with her in her hoodie pocket. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the medication with a sigh. He took the pills without a word. He looked at the chair somewhat hatefully now and Selina wondered how she was going to get him out of his brooding mood this time.

"I really don't feel like sitting."

"I know," she said quietly. "But I think you should, at least until the meds kick in."

"I'm fine."

"Sit."

He shook his head and stared at the floor. Selina worried, seeing she was getting nowhere with him. She glanced at Blake. _What did you say? _She mouthed.

Blake widened his eyes and shrugged. _I don't know?_

She narrowed her eyes, fixing a glare on Blake. Surely he'd said something to trigger Bruce's foul mood.

"John didn't say anything, Selina." Bruce commented. She noticed his slip, just as she did when he was in pain or was confused. Bruce sighed and grabbed his coffee, sipping it carefully. "I just need...I need..."

"To take a walk?" Fredericks stood, and offered Bruce the first smile she'd ever seen come from the man.

Bruce glanced up in surprise. "Mr. Fredericks, a walk would be nice."

Selina wanted to protest - Bruce was playing with fire. But now Bruce's smile was almost contagious.

"Five minutes," was all she said, in her best nurse voice.

* * *

Bruce clutched his coffee, cane and all. They left the rec room, opting for the shorter hallway to the right. It was the opposite way of his room and an area he didn't recognize.

"She's a good nurse."

"She is." Bruce paused and rested his weight on the cane as he drank his coffee. Still hot, it burned as it went down.

"She cares about you."

And he did for her.

"You've been here, for what? Two weeks?

"Sounds about right." His mood soured generously at Fredericks' attempt to elicit information.

"I'm sorry for the ordeal you suffered. Your injuries seem more difficult than you let on."

"Oh, they're improving. It's nothing I want to waste my breath on to explain." Bruce waved away his concern with the third hand he didn't have. He stepped with the cane to lean against the wall and sip his coffee. Maybe he should've pretended to be the airhead. At the moment, it didn't seem to difficult to fake.

"Should you trust her?"

The next sip was a mistake. He coughed. "Yes-"

"I would like to understand, for the more I watch you, the more questions arise in my mind that this situation is nothing like Commissioner Gordon or you have described to me."

"The situation itself is precarious. I was under the impression you understood this."

"Someone is not being truthful."

"Gordon is not at fault here."

"It's you who is at fault?"

"No," Bruce sighed. "I...can't tell you. I know it's a lot to ask, but you will have just have to trust me."

"Tell me this, then. I care deeply for your family. Your father was one of my best friends. After I watched his own son live foolishly and then throw away what his family built, what am I supposed to think when I hear the concern of an ex-cop and the senator's kidnapper? Not to mention that neither the ex-cop nor the Commissioner Gordon seem concerned that she's a criminal."

Bruce fell back on his old persona. "I don't know what you mean," he brushed off the man's concern with a disinterested, careless answer.

"I see." Fredericks frowned. "I'd hoped you would respond to my questions a bit differently, but maybe you haven't changed at all. And I've always believed in you, Bruce. These circumstances, however, make me wonder what this is really about."

"Are you going back on your promise, Mr. Fredericks? That is in poor taste," Bruce asked with a chuckle. "And my nurse...will you be taking this absurd accusation up with the police?"

"No, but only because James Gordon is involved and Miss Kyle saved my life, which in turn has helped my daugher and granddaughter. Jim Gordon is a good man. I know some don't view him to be especially for what he hid from Gotham the past eight years. I still do because I've always had faith in him and the Batman. But, I think that for whatever reason your 'resurrection' must remain a secret, as he said."

"Gordon is a good man," Bruce said firmly, offering the best he could that the commissioner was doing the best thing for his situation.

"I never doubted him. I trust him."

"But you don't trust me, even though Gordon is protecting Bruce Wayne."

"I'm sorry," Fredericks shook his head. "I can't. You almost ruined your father's company. His legacy, Bruce. Do you have any idea how bad that has made things? And to know you won't come back to fix any of it? It helps a little seeing that you've changed your habits, but how long will that last? By the way you've handled my questions just now, it hasn't lasted terribly long."

"I can't come back to fix things but I am trying to change. Actually," Bruce gave a short laugh. "These things aren't even a choice."

"Annette, being a nurse, has explained this to me. You are different but something is amiss."

"Your five minutes are up." Selina's voice drifted down the hallway. It'd hardly been two minutes. Grateful for the unprecedented, early interruption, Bruce tightened his grip on his cane. His leg throbbed. Selina rescued him in more ways than one - she pushed a wheelchair as she made her way next to him. "I knew you'd need this."

"Cat, thank you." Bruce murmured, only making it into his seat for the extra hand she gave him. "Mr. Fredericks, thank you for speaking so candidly, although you are overburdening yourself with these concerns."

"One more thing." Fredericks' eyes held a hard glint. "My granddaughter is enamored with you. Please don't disappoint her."

* * *

"What was that all about?" Selina asked after Fredericks walked away, his words echoing sharply in her ears.

"He used to like me. Now he hates me for some reason," Bruce muttered. "But I still like him."

"I'm never letting you be alone with that man again. He can't be hard on you like that."

Bruce glanced up at her, frowning. "Who can't be hard on me like that?"

"It's...it's not important. Don't worry about it," Selina brushed past his question. If she'd waited even a minute longer Bruce would be in the midst of another mess, this time explaining his memory loss. _This will never happen again_, she vowed. No matter how much he complained or begged for a little bit of freedom. "I'm postponing your game with Cora that's this afternoon. Actually, it's in half an hour. That's too soon."

"Game?" He glanced down at his coffee cup. "Why am I drinking coffee? I prefer to do that in the mornings. I don't care to drink coffee past noon. You just said it's afternoon."

"You must have a good reason for holding that cup in your hands, but I don't know what it is. I'm going to take you back to your room so we can refresh your memory."

"Selina..." Bruce carried his weariness in his shoulders. She made a mental note to give him a massage to ease the strain once they returned to his room. As he reached a hand to rub the back of his neck, he gave a sigh filled with a desperation that troubled her.

"I'm listening."

"I don't want to be here anymore."

"I know."


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note**: Dearest readers...I have to tell you that I've been extremely tired lately due to a busy fall schedule. As I prepared to post this chapter last week, however, I realized that it required some tweaking. I wrote this nearly two months ago and since then, a few things have changed. Well, tweaking when one is so fatigued is difficult. I don't expect my fatigue to let up any, so as I proceed, I am crossing my fingers. I ended tearing this chapter apart in my frustration and it's a lot longer than it once was and probably could be cut into two. But, here I am, giving you the long version. :-)

Thank you so much for your reviews! I greatly appreciate every one. To my guest reviewers- thanks so much for taking the time to comment. I hope you enjoy what's next. Here's a teaser for Chapter 18 or 19- it'll be one of three big BIG chapters to come.

* * *

Very few times had Selina ever found herself exasperated when she explained to Bruce all that he forgot. This time, however, as she laid before him the precautions they were taking with Fredericks and his family, she found herself almost careening off the edge of sanity. Especially when Bruce's secret was flirting dangerously at the surface and the ex-cop who had arrested her was in the same room listening.

"So I didn't say anything else about our conversation?" Bruce's expression teemed with irritation.

"No." If only she'd come a little earlier, they'd know something of the confrontation and he'd be less inclined to lay the blame all on himself.

"And, we're clueless on what he suspects. I suppose it was a bad idea that I wanted to take a walk alone."

"Yes it was." She hadn't trusted her instincts because he was like chocolate. She had a thing for chocolate and found it difficult to say 'no.' Especially when it came to the dark variety.

"Please - don't let me do that again."

She handed him his notebook. "Write it down."

"I have to say, I'm impressed," Blake said, watching Bruce scrawl his note.

"That he can admit when he's wrong?" She snickered at Bruce, who looked up from his notes with a hint of annoyance.

"That you handle these issues with Bruce and his memory so well." Blake considered them both with a slightly confused expression. "And that you two work so well together."

"I've had a month of practice, or, rather, thirty-one days of reminding him he is in no position to argue with me." She was glad those weeks were behind them. The next four had to be better.

"I couldn't have managed without you. Now that Blake is here, you can get a break when you need..." Bruce paused, distracted by his phone. "Leslie messaged me about a room for you? Selina, you've been sleeping in the janitor's closet?"

"Yes, and you are the one who arranged for a new room for me."

"You'll take the one next door," Bruce lips curved upward. "That's convenient."

"I'm moving your visit with Cora in here."

"Cora...she is Fredericks' granddaughter," Blake tucked his hands in his pockets, growing somber.

"Yes, what is it, John?"

"There were two murders very recently. The victims were men who had been rescued along with Fredericks from the tunnels."

"Wait. What happened to Fredericks?" Bruce's utter bewilderment twisted her heart as it always did. After Selina explained, Bruce somberly nodded to Blake. "So, you've been doing some detective work."

"I seem to have a lot of time as of late." Blake hesitated. "I gave my notes to my cousin, who handed them over to Gordon for me. I'm surprised Fredericks is still here, actually, because everyone who was trapped in that room was connected to a new drug ring already under investigation, at least it was before Bane took control of the city. The guy in charge is a Stewart Manning."

"That name is unfamiliar to me." Bruce frowned.

"It is to everyone because he's like a chameleon - his alias constantly changes. Manning is the most recent that the police discovered," Blake explained. "Of course, the ring vanished when Bane took over Gotham. Those kidnapped were either relatives - or directly involved. Fredericks' dead son-in-law was friends with one of the guys who was seen talking to one of the murder victims the night he died. It wasn't really a talk. More like...a fight. It's believed this friend has something to do with the murder."

"Annette said she'd been living on the streets since her father was kidnapped. That explains a lot." Selina frowned.

"You've discussed this with her?" Bruce asked.

"No, not specifically. Small talk."

"You? Small talk?"

"If I have to." Looking back, it hadn't been all that bad except for the fact it had opened up another way for Selina to aid a stray- or grow too soft. "While we were talking, she reacted strangely to a security guard here at the clinic. Turns out he knew her husband. Leslie ran her security checks again - he's clean. Annette feels that the clinic is the safest place right now instead of moving around. Not only that but her father's house is in shambles- he still isn't well enough to take care of his estate. They told Gordon they don't want to draw attention to themselves and Leslie is allowing them to stay here until Annette decides where to go next."

"If she was frightened, she's not safe," Bruce murmured as he limped to a chair. "The fact they kidnapped family members sounds like this has become personal. They wanted them to suffer and perhaps make the others feeling cornered until they get what they want, or at least until the time is right for them to strike."

"Annette may know what they want." Selina paused, remembering the woman's acute anxiousness. "She can't continue to stay here. It's been too dangerous, already."

Bruce shook his head. "No. But getting them to leave may be difficult. Fredericks doesn't exactly trust me."

"Not to mention that it seems like they don't want to listen to Gordon's advice." Selina quietly agreed. She expected to meet some struggle when they talked with Fredericks. "You could come clean."

"I'm not sure that will solve the problem. I need to figure out where they're safest." He typed on his phone.

"So, you're going to offer them a safe place to stay?" Selina asked Bruce in disbelief. The man could do many things, even with memory issues, but this was pushing it. "How are you in the position to do that, now?"

"I know I'm limited. Actually, I feel pretty useless," Bruce grimaced. "But to start, maybe Annette will allow Blake watch over their rooms and eventually get her to talk so we know more of how to help her. Gordon can vouch for Blake."

"I can do that," Blake nodded.

"Except that we leave tomorrow." Selina glanced at Bruce, knowing even before he spoke what he was about to say.

"If Fredericks is up to it, there's plenty of room on my plane for three extra people. Four, including Blake. It will be a chance to prove myself. I'll arrange things now for them to join us. But before I speak with Fredericks again, I must speak with Leslie- and Gordon."

"I'll find her for you." Selina almost twitched, not quite comfortable with the fact that Bruce would be around three people in close quarters in his condition. How on earth would they be able to hide his memory loss? "Bruce, Annette and her father - they'll want to know why you are traveling to the hospital."

"I'd rather not disclose that information. You know I can't, Selina. I can say Dr. Thompkins wants to investigate my injury further. It'll have to be enough."

"And if Fredericks' detects, yet again, that your struggle is more than you let on, how will you face his accusations?"

"With you," Bruce's eyes softened. She was flattered but she didn't see how either of them would manage to keep his memory loss a secret.

* * *

The next morning, Bruce was relieved to hear that this was the very day they were leaving to speak with a specialist concerning his brain injury, memory loss and migraines included.

"Please tell me I'm wrong and that I didn't fall asleep while talking with Fredericks." With painstaking care, he pulled over his head the dark gray hoodie Selina purchased for him. He winced as he raised his arms and his side wound stretching. His heart skipped a beat thinking of her gift. He'd awakened feeling chilled and unsettled for their day of traveling and the comfortable, warm sweatshirt filled a basic need. She told him that she was merely returning the favor, mentioning a comfortable room that he'd provided for her. He was still confused because she didn't explain any further but offered him a teasing smile instead.

"He mentioned you did that quite a bit during board meetings."

He groaned, hand combing his hair as he thought of the consequences. "He didn't agree to join his family and come with us, did he?"

"Actually...yes, he did."

"He did?"

"Despite the fact that you fell asleep during the conversation, he said yes." The smile she gave him was too forced. He frowned. "I think he still likes you but is putting up a front to protect himself and his family."

"That, I do understand." Bruce hesitated. "What is it you aren't telling me?"

"You had to make a decision because at first he didn't agree."

Bruce sank into a chair. Fredericks always drove a hard bargain, and it was one of the many reasons he preferred the older man to be on Wayne Enterprises board. "I told him about my memory loss, didn't I?"

She winced. "I'm sorry. You know you wouldn't have been able to hide that for very long. The good thing is that it was the thing that made him agree, Bruce."

"I realize that I wouldn't be able to hide the problem...but I suppose that I wanted to try." He shrugged and got to his feet, agitated that another secret had been unveiled. This very trip was a threat, and not only to his identity but to their safety. According to the notes in his journal, he'd taken every precaution he could think of planning their departure from the clinic, all for the sake of Fredericks' family. One such precaution he kept close - very close.

"Bruce, after you fell asleep, he asked why you haven't told Alfred," she said softly.

At that, his mood completely plummeted. Rather than reply to the loaded statement, Bruce opted for silence and the comfort it brought. Alfred had always understood that about him. His longer spells had hardly phased the older man, although at times they'd frightened even Bruce. He didn't know if Selina understood, but he did somewhat remember holding her hand and being silent together for an extended period of time.

He stood, feeling like he was half a man, with one knee brace snaked around his leg. He tried not to limp or wince but as he walked to the window, it wasn't anything he could help. He let Selina know this was difficult for him by being silent. His chest ached but it was the emotions filling every part of him that he couldn't control.

He closed his eyes, wanting to be far, far away from here and everyone. What had been his plan after surviving the bomb? Whatever plan he'd had, it's been pushed to the side for a month now and would be indefinitely.

Selina came beside him. "Will you? Ever?"

In the past, Fredericks at times had reminded him of Alfred. Since he first awakened this morning, everything reminded him of Alfred, even Leslie. Had he forgiven Alfred completely? At all?

"I don't know," Bruce said, wondering as a bit of the old darkness found the cracks and seeped into to his soul. Waves of grief washed over him but he fought against them. He knew he had a reason not tell Alfred besides the fact that deep down he struggled to forgive the man he loved as a father. Forgiveness, as well as the memory, were hidden well.

And even if the memory did come, who knew if he'd be ready to meet the man who had delivered so much hurt to him that day. He just wasn't ready. Not yet.

"Bruce, I've been selfish."

"What?" He frowned at the sudden change of subject but it was the distress Selina reflected from her eyes which bothered him the most.

"The brace."

"Knee brace? I have one," he looked at her, confused.

"No, this is about a second one available for you to use." She bit her lip. "You've been in a great amount of pain but when I mentioned how it upset me you set it aside."

She walked to the small dresser in his room and pulled open the top drawer. Sighing, she lifted out another knee brace and brought it to him, hand outstretched. "I shouldn't have said anything to prevent you from using the very thing that helps reduce your pain. You need this, Bruce, to be at your best. Especially when we travel today."

"You were upset and didn't want to leave me knowing I would put it on and endure pain," he said slowly and shook his head. "I don't want to upset you. I won't use it."

Her eyes widened. "You remember?"

"I remember your...agitation."

"I think your short term memory is improving, even if it's a small improvement."

Bruce clenched his fists at his sides. He knew he was remembering, for why else would his brain feel like it was in overdrive? He didn't know exactly all he'd forgotten in the first place, but he sensed many thoughts were new to him that shouldn't have been new. He also didn't care for a few of his new surfacing memories. A few of them just didn't seem quite right. His thoughts over the bay, if he had even gone over the bay with the autopilot fixed. A split second of hopelessness as he diverted the bomb elsewhere. But Selina's kiss had given him hope. Those two memories conflicted with each other and the more he tried to make sense of them, the harder it was to decipher what was real and what was not.

His thoughts were jumbled, and it wasn't a simple or pleasant mixture. Horrific things mingled, dragging fragmented pieces of poison through his mind. He pictured a woman, blonde and sugary sweet, but her smile had twisted with evil. Her verbal and physical assaults, as vague as they were, made him shiver. He was altogether too frightened to mention all this to Selina, fearing he'd appear more than just a man with memory loss. There hadn't been mention or talk about another caretaker. He wasn't going crazy, as well, was he? Was this woman with a twisted smile a figment of his imagination or something even more sinister?

"Bruce?"

"May I please have a minute?" He spoke harsher than he intended. "Alone?"

"Okay," Selina said simply, squeezing his hand before she stepped away. "I'll leave the brace on your bed." He turned his head, watching her, the woman who had swept into his life and into his heart in a way he never thought possible since Rachel's death.

It was too much to process. Traveling, Fredericks now knowing his struggle, his fragile and cracked memories...Alfred. His shoulders bent under the crushing weight of his physical and mental weariness. Surely he'd not meant to wait so long to tell Alfred he was alive. Bruce didn't know when he'd be able to put him on the short-list of people that knew Bruce was alive, but it wouldn't be tomorrow. Probably not even the following week, or the next.

Selina lingered at the door, her body language clearly revealing that didn't want to leave him.

"Close the door on your way out?" He asked, purposefully prodding her along so he could figure this out on his own.

"Sure, handsome. You have a few minutes before Mr. Fox arrives." Her smile flickered and fresh guilt flooded him. Nonetheless, he turned his back to the door and brought his attention to the window and softened hues of Gotham's morning sky. The day dawned with promise and he was sinking into a dark abyss. Sharing the pain was unacceptable. Sharing this with a woman for whom he cared so deeply was the last thing he wanted to do.

The door clicked shut.

He sighed a shallow, strangling breath. Finally, he was alone. He craved this solitude but life took a turn he'd not expected and he couldn't be alone for an extended time without risking his own health and well-being. He walked to his bed, sinking down into a seat. He picked up the knee brace Selina had left on the bed.

More comforting than anything for Bruce was the impending pain. He felt somewhat lost and left behind as everyone around him knew more than he did. At least he had this. Pain. He was so used to the feeling he didn't know what to do with out it. He wrapped the brace around his worthless knee and sucked in a hasty breath.

The brace crunched and squealed in delight, the mechanism tightening the straps against his pitiful bones in a way that showed Bruce he hadn't been prepared after all. Pain, more crippling than the other side, if that was even possible, radiated from this tender, vulnerable part of his body. His shaking arms betrayed him, showing their weakness as he braced himself against the bed and fought to sit upright.

His face locked into a tight grimace, the room echoing his loud groan and playing it back for him with taunting precision.

He choked on a cry as he tried to recover from the brutal reality of the corrective knee brace. The single sob racked his body, the void of Alfred tore at his soul. He slammed a fist on the table in front of him and invited the pain to fill that void.

The slender hand which touched his forearm broke the dam. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye and made its way slowly down his cheek. He stared up at Selina, somehow not shocked that she'd stayed and he'd not even known. Hadn't she always caught him off-guard?

"Don't be angry with me, but I couldn't leave you like this. I'm sorry," she whispered, sorrow pooling in her eyes. "I can't imagine how difficult this is for you."

With his arms wrapped around her waist and her arms cradled around his neck, they leaned on each other. Selina, who hated the braces but had stayed, stood before him and offered him comfort. In return, he hardly had anything of worth to give her. Even his mind was in shambles. "How could I do this to him? Not forgive him. Make him believe I'm dead...now that others know the truth."

Her hand stilled on his head. "Is that what's bothering you? Not that you're dependent on us? Not that essentially your dependence while we travel is like a prison? You're concerned about your butler?"

"No. Yes...I...I don't know." He wanted more than anything to explain to her with the fullness of his memory behind it. "I'm stuck, Selina. I'm a man who can't move forward from the past. I can't tell him that I am alive because he would want to help me, but he shouldn't. He can't. But he would try."

"Perhaps just hearing that you're alive would be enough."

He pulled away, looking away from her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever cried. "That's...that's...cruel."

"It would be enough for a man who cares for you like a son. And it may be what you need to bring you at least some sense of relief. You go through these emotions often, Bruce, and I see how hard it is for you. It wears you down each time we have to explain what has happened. If he knew you were alive, it may be one less thing that tortures you."

He feared she was right.

"Until you're ready to tell him more, or see him," Selina's fingers found his face, found the few tears which leaked and wiped them gently away.

"I can't," he swallowed. "I can't talk to him, Selina. I can't see him, not yet. There is another reason I can't but I don't remember what it is. It's only a feeling at this point. Besides, he'd hear it in my voice that something is wrong."

"Maybe you don't need to be the one to tell him. Leslie could. After we've left Gotham."

The idea was brilliant and he stared at the woman for whom he'd escaped the Bat.

His breath left him.

_The woman for whom he'd escaped the Bat._

"Bruce?"

_He'd kept them._ He glanced at the black bag on the bed. They had to be in there. Where else would they be?

"You remembered something else." Her eyes brightened. "Bruce."

"They're flickers of...of images, really." He continued to explain, tripping over his words in his haste. "But not many. I don't...I don't remember much of anything. Just...a few random little pieces. And I think there a few pieces that aren't...right. They do not set well with me."

He admitted the last part rather reluctantly.

"You're upset about your memories?" As he watched her concern become full-fledged, he wished he could take his words back. "A few don't seem right?"

"Like I said, they're glimpses. Nothing really," he said. "I don't want to talk about those right now, though, Selina."

He stood up to test his legs, hoping she'd not call him on his deflecting.

She looked at him with care, pausing before answering. If she tucked the information away, she was sure to question him later. "It's a start."

"It's pathetic, that's what it is." He paced and hardly noticed that he no longer had a limp or the same level of pain. He had to think of a kind way to ask her to leave so he could search in his bags. They had to be in there.

"I'm glad you made those arrangements at the airport for Fredericks and his family even before he agreed," she said mildly.

He scowled at Selina, only part of that making sense to him.

"Arrangements for us to fly with Fredericks and his daughter and granddaughter, for your appointment." She answered with enthusiasm, unfazed by his foul mood. "We just went over this a few minutes ago."

"Right, the airport," he shook his head. "Selina...I can't..."

"So you forgot that part." Selina's matter of fact manner gutted him. "It's okay. Things are improving but you are still having trouble and that's nothing to be ashamed about."

"It's not okay," he snapped. He flushed. He had no cause to speak to her that way. "I'm sorry, Selina. I don't know what's wrong with me."

She folded her arms and gazed at him like she was the principal and he the student who just got sent to detention. "Before you get yourself all worked out, handsome, there was something in your notes written for me. The hedge."

"The Hedge?" He must have added her to one of his bank accounts. "That's a code word...for one of my bank accounts. I added your name to one...well...at least I think I did."

Distracted, he stopped pacing and glanced at the black bag on his bed. He needed to find them...before he forgot.

"What? You added me..."

"I added your name to one of my off-shore accounts." He turned his attention back to Selina. She now stared at him in a rare, open-mouthed shock. "Someone would need to be on one in case I forget. That someone should be you."

"Are you crazy?"

"It's not so crazy. I trust you. Grab a pen...and my journal," he muttered before spouting off names and numbers. She kept up with him, even managing to send him a pitying - God help him - look before he finished. "What?"

"You've been cooped up for too long, big guy."

"In my mind, I've been here really only an hour. Or maybe a few hours. It's the feeling that I've been here longer."

She nodded. "I think it has to feel different to you now that you're remembering. That's why you're not yourself."

"Of course I'm not myself," he retorted.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Bruce. I think you were handed too much mental stress yesterday."

Too much? He'd take more mental stress if it would hand him his memories.

"Lucius will be here soon. Maybe you need a few minutes to yourself?" He nodded. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his before he could react. He reached for her and she lingered but for a few seconds. "I should let you have some time."

He wished she could stay. He wanted more than that singular kiss. The fire burning fast and furious inside of him hinted there was plenty to their relationship they hadn't discussed - or even approached. He almost asked her to stay but then he remembered the bag, and Selina already moved towards the door.

"We leave in less than two hours for the airport. I'll be back soon with Mr. Fox," Selina said before slipping from his room.

Once she'd left the room for good this time, Bruce held his breath and began his search. The outside hidden pocket had nothing inside. Would he forget before he found them? Frantic that he would, his fingers fumbled as he checked another pocket. Still nothing.

Fear swelled in his chest. He searched another pocket. His heart pounded when he found nothing yet again. With a desperate, ragged sigh he tried the last hidden pocket. Seconds later, they dangled from his fingers.

He cupped them reverently in his palm, staring at the small treasures and the delicate, ivory strand they formed. His hands shook with the weight of what they meant, for both him and Selina. He couldn't believe that, apparently, he'd forgotten about them until now. He couldn't wait to give them to her but it had to be the right time. He'd clasp the strand around her neck with purpose, for nothing he did with Selina Kyle was done on a whim. Nothing he wanted to do with Selina was based on a passing fancy, despite the fleeting memories which betrayed him.

With an impatient sigh, Bruce returned them to their black, velvet pouch. He placed the velvet pouch in a deep pants pocket where they'd be kept safe and where their weight alone would remind him of their existence and her part in his life.

They had been hers from the very beginning.

* * *

"When are you ever going to learn to listen?" Selina said with exasperation as Bruce appeared out of nowhere in the waiting room.

"I got...bored?" He stared at her a bit sheepishly as he stepped within inches of her. Selina huffed a sigh. She'd forgotten that having a bored Bruce Wayne on her hands was quite dangerous. "And I missed you."

"I've been gone one minute, handsome."

His obvious infatuation with her was quite satisfying. He smiled a little, which was a remarkable improvement from the time they'd just spent in his room.

"That's too long." His slow grin grew enormous as the man behind her stepped into view. "Lucius."

"No auto-pilot." Fox chuckled and held out his hand.

"I guess I knew you'd figure it out." Bruce shook Fox's hand, his grip fierce towards the end as his smile faltered. "I'm sor-"

"No," Fox shook his head. "I can't accept your apology."

"But, I-"

"No." Fox inclined his head towards Bruce with a firm nod, eyes bright with unguarded emotion that stirred something unfamiliar in Selina's heart. With gratitude, she held her breath as she watched the two men. "Every single thing you do is backed with good reason. It took me a few weeks to come to the conclusion, and by the time that Miss Asher came to see me at my office, I knew. I knew and and I have been a happier man ever since. I can't complain."

Bruce swallowed, rubbing his jaw as he was brought to silence by Fox's meaningful words.

"Why don't we head to your room?" Selina said softly. "So you can discuss the other matters privately."

Bruce's small frown of disappoinment tugged at her already pulled heartstrings. "Can't we stay here?"

"No, not an option." As adorable as his pleading was, she could not back down this time. No, no matter how dark and handsome he was, either. She tucked her hand around Bruce's arm, her pulling gentle. "Mr. Fox? It's this way."

"Please?" Bruce dragged his feet. "It's nice out here."

"Sure, handsome," she replied with a smirk. "When the day comes that I can no longer pull one over you.

Fox chuckled behind them. "I believe it would be safe to assume that you, my friend, have met your match."


	18. Chapter 18

The time had come for them to leave, and Selina and Fox led the way to back doors of the clinic. A solemn man trailed behind them with deliberate, heavy steps befitting more a funeral procession than a release from a hospital. She didn't know what had pushed Bruce to revisit his downcast mood. It wouldn't do him any favors if Annette and her father noticed- and Selina had no doubt that they would. After exchanging a concerned glance with Fox, Selina dared to look back. Her own spirits fell as she observed the solitary figure scowling at nothing in particular but appearing dissatisfied with the world.

"Would it hurt you to crack another smile this morning?" Her whisper broke the silence of the dimmed, empty hall.

Bruce shrugged and placed his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt, appearing even less like the billionaire he'd once been.

"You're leaving this place for awhile - and with two working legs. I thought you'd be a little happier." In response, Bruce's mouth dipped down even more. Fox opened the back door. When Bruce stepped out of the clinic for the very first time in an entire month, Selina hovered. She wondered when exactly she'd become a mother hen.

She learned quickly that it had rained, the snow turning into something that somewhat resembled spring. Soon, the slush would melt away and the grass would grow a vibrant, promising green but for now the melodies of birds trickled in her ear and she could imagine the buds flourishing on the trees and bushes. The evil in Gotham had reigned far too long - but this brightened her spirits, which were relatively high to begin with. Hope was on the horizon that Bruce's discomforts would soon be alleviated.

The fresh air teased her senses, delighting Selina. Bruce pulled the hood over his head, shadowing any facial expression. "I _am_ happy."

Selina refrained from offering a smart remark when she spotted Annette, her father, and Cora just now leaving the clinic by way of another door along the back northeast corner. The car was parked in an area, walled and protected on three sides, where no one could see them from a window. Leslie now diverted security to a different part of the building while they left the clinic through two separate, vacated hallways. One hallway posed a potential problem for Bruce, and Selina immediately chose to avoid that which could provoke atrocious memories of Nurse Beth. Selina wasn't taking any chances that an unexpected glimpse of memory would set off a migraine or harm him in another way.

"Lucius, may I speak to you for a moment?" Bruce's low voice broke her train of thought. "I want to go over again what you explained to me in the room.

"Your investment?" Fox smiled from the doorway. Selina swore Bruce's countenance lightened beneath his hood at Fox's easy reply.

She wished there was a way that they could take Fox with them. He was a profound source of encouragement - for the both of them.

"Yes." Bruce furrowed his brow and indicated with his head behind Selina. "Blake's here."

Selina held her breath. He'd said it in question. "He's driving the vehicle, not Gordon. You requested that Gordon provide an escort until we've gotten off of the island, instead."

"I can't forget these things, Selina. Not today."

"I know, and so far this morning, you havn't forgotten much since we debriefed. You're doing better, and I almost think..." She hesitated.

"What?"

"You need things like this to help your memory along. Plans to make." People to save, she thought.

Bruce nodded, his frustration palpable. "I'll be over in a minute."

A minute turned into five. She didn't wait in the car, for although they were in the back of the clinic and Gordon sat in another vehicle blocking the entrance, she wanted to be well aware of her surroundings. Bruce preferred for them to leave in broad daylight for the family's safety, hoping the men on Annette's trail would be less likely to strike. Selina assumed it also was due to his memory loss, not to mention the fact he wasn't in peak physical condition. Hiding in broad daylight was a satisfactory alternative. Selina tapped her fingers on the top of the vehicle as she stood beside an open door passenger door. Cora's carefree, sing-song voice drifted from inside the SUV, providing the beat.

Blake leaned against the closed driver's door, head tipped back to soak in the little sun which broke through the clouds. "He knows. He has a reason."

She drummed her fingers harder. It was not being behind schedule which bothered her but the fact that Blake was correct. He dug under her skin, and she had no doubt that she did the same to him. She understood exactly why the tension grew thick between them - he held a grudge for her part in Bruce's horrendous beating and capture. Her own grudge had waned in her acceptance that Blake's faithful and constant extended hand of friendship meant a great deal to Bruce. Soon, something had to give and she feared it would occur while in close proximity with these fairly new acquaintances.

"Typical." Fredericks stared where Bruce talked with Fox, although Fox was hidden from view on the clinic steps. Who knew how Fredericks would react knowing the President of Wayne Enterprises was aware of Bruce Wayne's resurrection. "He never was one for being punctual."

Selina immediately straightened and directed her irritation at the older man. "His discussion with Dr. Thompkins is of utmost importance."

Blake coughed in his hand at her white lie. The important conversation with Fox concerned their accommodations in the city to which they were currently traveling. It had nothing to do with the doctor but rather with the house that Bruce purchased, thanks to Fox's diligence the past twenty-four hour. She herself just learned about the house minutes before they left the building. She hadn't even been shocked. It was just like Bruce. She already considered that if he stepped one foot out of the clinic he wasn't returning. She'd made a promise to him and he had to her. They were as together as a couple as they could be given the less than satisfactory circumstances.

"Does he know our safety is at risk as we wait? Does he truly care?" Fredericks frowned.

"Dad," Annette hissed.

"He knows," Blake calmly repeated.

Her father ignored them both and slipped into the car with Cora. Annette's face flushed with shame. "I apologize for my father. He's not been himself for weeks, and I think it's all this...stress. He actually is quite fond of Mr. Wayne."

"There is no need to apologize," Selina murmured, relieved to see Bruce now approaching them.

"Mr. Wayne's limp is gone." Annette looked at her in confusion.

Selina nodded, eyes locked on Bruce as his stride was, indeed, smooth. Smooth, but markedly unhurried still. How had his discussion with Fox put him in an even dourer mood? He couldn't possibly feel this depressed today. It didn't make any sense.

"It seemed to be a serious injury."

"It is."

Selina frowned at Blake. Offering that information wasn't wise.

"It must continue to bother him, then," Annette's inquisitive, concerned gaze brushed over Bruce again. "That explains why Leslie gave me pain medication to administer every six hours today."

"Yes, he experiences flairs." Selina allowed herself to say that much. Her own ruse was almost up as she relinquished part of her 'nursing' to Annette. But, she couldn't focus on what she needed to today if she constantly had to play nurse, as well. She hadn't told Bruce how pleased she was of Annette's presence during the trip. To have a true nurse at his beck and call was a large burden off of her shoulders.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne." Annette's soft, genuine smile dipped as Bruce merely offered her a clipped nod.

"John, I assume everything is ready?" Nothing about Bruce's expression warmed Selina and as she stole a sideways glance at Annette, her worry for Bruce stirred. This behavior, although somewhat warranted, was almost rude. If he wanted their fellow passengers to be more receiving of him, he couldn't be this cold in the car.

"It is," Blake nodded. "Absolutely everything."

"Good."

"Bruce-"

"Miss Asher." His brusqueness perplexed her but before she could question him he entered the car without another word.

Her thoughts tumbled as she stared at the empty space beside his closed door. He'd placed a significant amount of pressure upon himself for today, especially as his memory had somewhat blossomed. Even though numerous things slipped his mind, Bruce was recalling a little more each day. That he could recall details amazed her, even if those details were mostly based on emotional memory. She attributed his progress to the extreme amount of mental energy he used during therapy, Bruce habitually working himself to near exhaustion.

"Is Mr. Wayne alright?"

The sweetness of Annette was the only thing barring Selina from responding rudely in her own frustration.

"He's merely anxious for his appointment. He's fine, otherwise." Selina doubted he was fine. In fact, she now ventured to believe that the beginnings of a migraine influenced this behavior as well as an internal struggle to keep everything in his memory under lock and key. He wouldn't be able to contain those memories for all the concentration he had. Even though it was beneficial to push, if he pushed too hard the resulting mental strain could be too much.

"He is usually more personable, or at least smiles a little easier. Is this part of his personality change from his brain injury? We haven't seen much of him since my father figured out who he was, considering we've been living at the same clinic now for weeks, so I am not completely aware of all of the discrepancies."

Selina fought from nodding too eagerly in her appreciation that Annette came up with a brilliant explanation all on her own. "He can be awfully quiet. He withdraws. Quite often."

Annette's mouth twitched. "I sense that it frustrates you."

"At times." Undoubtedly, it was also something that attracted her to him.

"So, Mr. Wayne is sometimes the silent, brooding type now."

"You have no idea," Selina muttered under her breath as they piled into the car.

Selina eased herself into the seat beside Bruce, glad to see in his hand and open, the journal containing vital pieces of information for the day. His eyes rested on Cora but he acknowledged Selina's presence in the way they settled against each other, side by side. Her heart skipped a beat as he moved towards her, pressing shoulder to shoulder, thigh against thigh. So much she wanted to share with him. Each day, as they distanced themselves from the onset of his injuries and came closer to one another, her care for him- and, dare she say passion - flourished. She ached for more from him and had no doubt she'd eventually get what she wanted - time alone together without seeing him in pain, without the frustration of splintered memories. Selina could read him well enough by now to see the same emotion reflected in his own eyes.

"What's going on, handsome?" She whispered in his ear after catching him frowning across the aisle to at Cora. Selina and Bruce sat in the first row of passengers seats. Unlike in other vehicles, this row faced the back, a precaution Bruce set when he secured this vehicle.

"Her bear..."

Selina sent an amused smile at the little girl who was playing airplane with a stuffed toy and making a series of adorable engine noises.

"She loves that bear," Annette leaned over to whisper. "She just got it today."

_"Selina."_

She frowned, the hint of despair in Bruce's rasp disconcerting as were the creases about his eyes and the tension pulling his mouth. Bruce's rough voice attracted Fredericks' attention, and that concerned her all the more.

"What's wrong?"

He mulled over her question silently for a moment while Annette absorbed herself with preparing Cora for their travels.

"I don't...I..." He frowned, his eyes rested once again upon Cora and then down to the soft, tan bear in her hands. Selina smiled to herself as the child's death grip practically squeezed its neck of its soft filling. As squashed and well-loved as it was, the stuffed animal hardly appeared to be anything but a flattened rodent.

"They'll be fine."

"Yes...I know..." His shallow, shaky sigh filled the silence which befell them all.

"Mr. Wayne, are you feeling alright?" Annette peered curiously at him.

"Is it a migraine?" Selina wasted no time. It'd been two days since the last, and it was what Leslie and Selina both expected to see while traveling, unfortunately.

"No. I'm fine. It's..." He paused. The helplessness in his expression crushed her and she preferred his previous coolness over this desperate resignation. "Never mind. It's probably nothing."

"I'm sorry you forgot, Bruce. Is that what happened?" There was no beating around bush and no way she could sugar coat her question in front of the others.

Bruce snapped his journal shut and narrowed his eyes at the cover in concentration. Selina waited with bated breath. The silence thickened, the curiosity of Annette and Fredericks rising by the second. Finally, his eyes raised. This time they flickered with something else - regret. "Cat, I'm afraid that I don't know. I just don't know."

* * *

His hand rested on her thigh, fingers loosely entwined in her own and reminding her of the relationship she'd begun with this mystery of a man next to her. Bruce was a paradox - he was deeply satisfying to her yet at the same time her desire for him was insatiable. She sighed, catching sight of his sleeping profile from the corner of her eye. Her concern for his well-being grew as it always did when he was vulnerable and unaware.

It wasn't until after Gordon texted her to say all was clear that Bruce allowed himself to close his eyes, satisfied they'd made it thirty minutes away from the clinic without the threat of being followed. Before he fell asleep almost half an hour ago, Bruce quietly admitted that he had a headache. However, he refused the medication Annette offered him, preferring to 'rest his eyes.' Not wanting to argue with him in front of the other passengers Selina had left it alone. But, if this turned into a full-blown migraine with the same symptoms as before this early on in their travels, she couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to transfer him to the airplane and then to another vehicle and finally to the house. He still tired easily and required rest. The feeling in the pit of her stomach told her this trip may be even more difficult than they expected.

"Mommy, is that Batman? Did he come back?"

Selina tried not to snap to attention at Cora's soft question. The little girl pointed to the outer page of the newspaper Mr. Fredericks held in his hands, reading.

"It's a statue of the Batman, sweetie." Annette pursed her lips. "The Batman saved Gotham but now he...he can't come back."

"No, mommy," Cora's bottom lip protruded, eyes burgeoning with tears. "He saved my papa. Make Batman come back."

Selina unintentionaly squeezed Bruce's hand. To her surprise, he gently squeezed back.

"Yes, he did, Cora. Before you were born, he saved Papa."

"What happened?" Selina asked, well aware that although Bruce was awake he chose to appear asleep. Why had he not mentioned that before? Of course, she shouldn't be surprised. She learned a great deal about the real Bruce Wayne the past few weeks, humility being near the top of the lengthy list. Not only humility but his penchant for holding information close to his chest, as well.

The newspaper ruffled in Fredericks hands as he folded it and set it aside. His eyes, somber as always, fixed on Selina.

"It was almost one year after the Batman took the blame for the supposed murder of Harvey Dent. An emergency meeting ran much later than I had expected. It may seem too cliche, but he saved my life as I walked to my car. The two men who attempted to accost me were unconscious on the ground before I could even blink." Fredericks furrowed his brow. "It was strange, for although I knew it was him, he was not dressed as he normally would be. He wore a sort of uniform of all black and a mask but no cape and cowl. He reminded me of...a ninja. He acted so fast, I could almost believe that he had followed me out of the building although he had no reason to do so. I wouldn't have even seen him except when he warned me not to walk alone so late in the streets of Gotham, his eyes reflected the light of a lamppost. He warned me harshly, as he should have. I don't know what I had been thinking."

"You were thinking that those streets of Gotham were safe," Annette murmured. "And that was how you knew about him, dad."

Fredericks nodded. "No man who cared to rescue an old man such as myself could have murdered in cold blood. I learned the next day that earlier that same evening he had thwarted a robbery and rescued two hostages."

"You weren't even supposed to be at that meeting." Annette frowned.

"No, I wasn't, but..." Fredericks hesitated, his eyes darting quickly at Bruce 'slumbering' beside her. "Mr. Wayne couldn't make it and I wanted to make sure things went the way I knew he would want them to go."

"I'm sure Bruce expressed his appreciation." Selina didn't bother holding her breath. Knowing Bruce, he would have found this the perfect opportunity to play up his careless, playboy act.

"I wouldn't know," Fredericks replied as she expected, each syllable stiff and broken.

"I'm just glad you're safe," Annette clasped her hand on her father's knee, squeezing lightly. "And now with Cora and-"

"Miss Asher," Blake interjected from his place behind the wheel, an edge to his voice. "Could you hand me a water bottle, please?"

Dread swirled in her stomach at the code words. Selina turned her head to look at Blake. He jerked his head towards the back, not bothering to make eye contact. Carefully letting go of Bruce's hand, she grabbed one of the bottles in the small cooler at her feet and handed it to Blake. She rested an arm on the door, peering out the tinted windows as if she hadn't a care in the world. A moment passed as she watched the road. She swallowed the lump in her throat as best she could when she confirmed Blake's suspicion.

They were being followed.

* * *

**A/N: **Would you like some good news? I'll be posting another chapter by Friday. I am no good at keeping people in suspense. I hate secrets. :-) However, I am good at keeping promises. I think I did say Chapter 18 or 19 for a somewhat "big" chapter. :-) So if this wasn't it...maybe the next? Thanks so much for reading! To those who review- thank you for sharing your thoughts. I appreciate them more than you know!


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N**: Thank you so very much for the positive/excited comments, guest reviews and all, after the last chapter's cliffhanger. Many thanks to YLJedi for kindly helping me weeks ago with a few ideas for this chapter when it was in rough form as well as calming my fears about what I planned here. I should add some disclaimer that I'm not a doctor. Definitely not a doctor - or stunt man/woman. But I do like to research. I know I've beaten up on poor Bruce and Selina...I promise that will end shortly. They are overdue their well-deserved respite and will soon be in the place where they can get just that. Hope you enjoy what's next!

* * *

Selina expelled a slow breath as the precarious situation became a vivid reality. The passengers across from her included a young mother and her small, innocent daughter, the young mother a recent widow who already feared for their lives. The passenger next to them was the woman's aging father who would be out of his mind with worry if he knew the trouble which lay ahead of them. Beside Selina was a man who normally could do the impossible in any situation but was now battling very limiting conditions. In concern for his own safety, Selina had hoped they would not be up against something like this so soon- for she was under no illusion that a relationship with Bruce would be free of their enemies or danger. That was inevitable but she'd be ready, as she always was. As far as their driver? The ex-cop? Although Blake was skilled in his work and intelligent, he could not possibly defend them like Bruce could.

With all the precuations taken, this shouldn't have happened. What had they missed?

"_John_."

The gravelly nature of Bruce's voice hardly startled her but the two adults sitting before her jumped in their seats.

"I see them," Blake muttered from the driver's seat.

"No," Bruce opened his eyes and leaned forward, pulling out his phone. "The one on your left."

Selina took a sharp breath. How did he know that when his eyes were closed? Did he have eyes on the side of his head? _Of course he does._

Fredericks frowned at Bruce. "Bruce? I thought you were sleeping."

"The one on my..." Blake took a second glance. His hands tightened around the wheel. "That one came out of nowhere."

"What are you talking about?" Annette widened her eyes at Bruce.

Bruce ignored her, intent on making a call.

"Gordon, we're being followed. There are three cars," Bruce said into his phone, eyes searching the back window. The road wasn't terribly populated but just enough to make this difficult. "Initiate the backup plan."

"You have a backup plan?" Selina narrowed her eyes at Bruce.

Bruce described the vehicles and ended his call.

"I do." He nodded, watching her as he shed his sweatshirt, leaving a black short-sleeved shirt underneath.

"I didn't know we had an alternative." She stared back at him accusingly.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to go there." He shrugged. "But they must have used a tracking..."

He furrowed his brow, voice trailing off as he glanced down at the child slumping tiredly against Annette. "No," he whispered, face blanching.

"What is it?" She murmured.

His eyes flickered to the teddy bear Cora clutched in her arm, its soft head nestled under her chin. "I need to look at her bear."

"Cora, may I see your teddy bear?" Selina questioned the little girl with heavy eyes and a yawn.

Annette nodded in encouragement at her daughter. Cora's lower lip protruded like before but her tiny arms stretched out, bear held out for Selina. "Mister Bear is sleepy, like me."

"I'll take good care of Mister Bear, Cora," she promised. "But I can't return it to you just yet."

Selina handed it to Bruce and then moved to shield the bear from the child's view. A small device in hand, Bruce scanned the toy. His eyes flared with anger when the device sounded along the bear's arm. Selina's breath caught.

"Bruce, you were trying to tell me something about her bear. This was it. You wanted me to search for a tracking device but forgot so quickly this time."

Stricken, Selina watched as his demeanor continued to crack. He took out a small knife from his pocket and slit open the bear, still hidden from Cora's sight. His hand disappeared in the stuffing as he searched. When he pulled out the damning device his expression was riddled with frustration.

"It's not your fault, Bruce."

"Yes, it is," he gritted, crushing the device with his heel. "If it weren't for this ridiculous situation that I'm in..."

"It's not your fault." It was all she could say yet Selina knew it wasn't enough.

"Faulty memory or not, I should have-"

"You can't blame yourself, Bruce. If anything, it's our fault. The rest of us should have caught it."

"A nurse gave her that bear before we left. I am so sorry. We've endangered you all," Annette tucked her daughter close beside her, eyes regretful.

"The only one to at fault is me," Bruce muttered.

"Bruce," Selina touched his arm. Under her hand, his muscles turned to rock as unyielding as his self-blame. "There was nothing you could have done."

The few seconds that they watched each other seemed endless as did the pain in his eyes. He heaved a sigh. "Annette, I promise. I'll get you all to safety."

"You? How?" Fredericks asked, his voice incredulous.

"I have a decoy planned in case we were seen before we left. And we are being followed. The commissioner has been ahead of us this entire time in a car exactly like this one. With any luck, we'll lose at least one of the cars."

"And you," Fredericks said in disbelief, "are in charge of this plan?"

"One's on our tail," Blake called out as he accelerated. He swung to the right, putting them all off balance, except for Bruce. They braced themselves as a second car scraped their side. "They're trying to run us off the road."

Despite the agitation he demonstrated seconds ago, Bruce spoke evenly and his calm, low voice diverted the passengers' attention from the danger. Before Selina looked away from Blake, she realized Blake was now talking softly in a mouthpiece - to Gordon.

Bruce continued. "Annette, I suggest getting as close to the floor as possible. There are seat belts built into the floor. Keep Cora down and protected. This could get rough. Mr. Fredericks, that goes for you, too. Also, Annette, under your seat in a bag there are child-friendly headphones already connected to a device for some music for Cora. She doesn't need to hear any of this."

Selina's heart constricted as she heard Bruce's consideration for the three year old. He'd thought of everything, somehow managing despite his impairment.

Annette nodded, face pinched but understanding. She took off the seatbelt and hugged her daughter close before crouching on the floor. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault...my husband's. They...they want.."

"What do they want?" Selina narrowed her eyes. The woman refused to give Selina and Blake any information when they had discussed the issue with her.

Annette eyes filled with panic. "I'm sorry. But I can't-"

"Files," Bruce said firmly. "They want the files of transactions and account numbers your husband has on them. You haven't been altogether truthful with Gordon. Your husband was involved with their 'business,' but he planned to approach the authorities even if it meant digging his own grave."

Annette gave a weak cry. "How did you know that?"

"I managed to do a little research - with some help. I also know they have some other hold on you and because of that, they won't stop at following us."

Annette squeezed her eyes shut, whispering so softly Selina had to strain to hear. "Cora. They...they will take her."

"They won't," Bruce vowed. "Because I will stop them."

"What's your plan, handsome?" Selina's stomach clenched. "You aren't possibly be thinking of doing anything like you used to."

"I have no choice but to act. They will not be satisfied to simply follow us."

Selina immediately knew what he inferred. _They'd kill them_.

Bruce looked at Selina, expression cautious. "Selina, underneath your seat is a vest that I need you to hand to me."

"I assume it's a vest that is bullet proofed?" She glared at him. "How is it going to be even physically possible for you to do any-"

"Leslie."

It was too matter-of-fact for her, spoken far too blandly to mean anything good. "What did she give you?"

The car jolted again and threw them all off balance. Bruce reacted with swift movements, preventing Annette from slamming her head into the door.

"Something that works in these particular situations." Bruce gently let go of Annette and pulled straps from the floor, buckling the mother and daughter in silence. The woman whispered her thanks and clutched her daughter closer. "Selina...the vest?"

"So a shot of some drug is going to work a miracle? What did she give you?" She repeated.

"Selina, I don't remember. Let it go." Bruce gritted.

"You don't remember," she repeated dryly.

"No. I only remember that I've had to keep my heartrate down until now." He frowned and looked at his palm where notes were written upon his skin, plain as day.

"I thought you retired," she retorted, irritated that he chose to be vague in his reply to her and even more irritated that he'd resorted to having notes written upon his skin. She grabbed the vest. Instead of handing the bullet-proof vest to him, she held it up to help him to guide his arms through the holes. She didn't imagine the slow, stiff way he moved his body this very morning and that he now moved with a distinct ease.

"You may recall that I seem to have issues with retirement," he deadpanned, the vest now completely covering his chest. "And like I said before, I have no choice, and neither do all of you."

"Retirement? What is he talking about?" Annette looked to Selina. "Why does he need a bulletproof vest?"

Annette stopped abruptly, as if realizing along with Selina that his plans would put him at risk.

"Mr. Wayne, those men are too dangerous!'

"We are to listen to you?" Fredericks asked, a bite to his words. "You're in charge?"

"Dad!" Annette huffed. "They're trying to help _us_. _Mr. Wayne_ is trying to help _us_."

"Yes, I am in charge." Bruce didn't miss a beat as he reached under the seat and pulled the case from under the seat. After he opened it, he first took out a pair of black gloves and put them on quickly.

"How are you equipped to..." Fredericks faltered as Bruce then lifted a part of the EMP rifle from the case. Bruce watched him out of the corner of his eye as he picked up the second piece. "How are you going to get us out of this situation, Mr. Wayne? You can't even help save your own company."

The sarcasm bounced off Bruce but it hit Selina hard.

"Selina," Bruce warned before she even opened her mouth but she spouted off anyways.

"How can you stand this, Bruce? For years you've allowed people to think the worst of you." She then glared at Fredericks. "He's trained, alright? He's trained and experienced and now he's going to do what he always does and risk his life again to save someone else's. This time, that life is yours. And his company? That wasn't his fault at all. None of it was. It was fraud."

Bruce blinked at her. Selina felt a flutter in her stomach as he showed his gratitude with a slight upward tug of his lips.

"What does she mean?" Fredericks frowned at Bruce.

"She means that if you want to get out of this alive, Mr. Fredericks..." Bruce looked back at the parts in his hand and locked the two pieces together. Fredericks' eyes began to flicker in recognition at the device in his hands. The type of device Batman was said to carry. "You'll have to trust me, just as you trusted the Batman."

Selina's heart constricted even more, taking away her very breath as she watched the man before her choose to flirt with danger once again - this time with far too many factors stacked against him. "Bruce, your back can't handle any more strain. And your head?"

"Selina, there's no other way. You know I have to do this."

Knowing did not make it any easier - it only worsened the helplessness she felt. Annette's enemies would kill them unless Bruce acted.

"Ready?" Blake asked.

"Promise me, handsome, that you'll be in one piece when this is over? For me?"

He nodded quickly, the desperation in his eyes revealing that her words struck. Her chest swelled, aching with all she had left unsaid between them. She pleaded silently for him to find an alternative to revealing himself and endangering his own life. She was used to danger, used to seeing lives lost and even putting her own self in the line of fire. But this was different. The past five weeks had changed everything for her. It was Bruce, and it took every ounce of control she had left not to beg for him to change his mind. Blake pressed the button to roll down the window next to Bruce. Cool air filled the vehicle, already whipping Bruce's hair back from his face. His muscles coiled, readying to spring. He now appeared more alive than he had for weeks.

Bruce observed the road but spoke to the man across from him. "About that night I saved your life, Mr. Fredericks."

Fredericks looked at him in confusion. Selina tensed, but she couldn't fault Bruce for giving up his secret in this moment. Fredericks would eventually figure out who was really under that mask he so admired. Especially as Bruce was now forced to protect them, Selina surmised. A great change loomed ahead for them all that none of them were capable of stopping.

"You were right." Bruce heaved the black device back in his hands. He raised his voice over the wind rushing into the vehicle. "I followed you directly from the meeting."

Fredericks' face went slack. "Bruce, my boy."

"I followed you because it was the very least that I could've done."

* * *

Bruce didn't wait for Fredericks' reaction. Instead, he pulled himself into his dark knight persona. Selina didn't know about their backup plan for a good reason. If there were cars behind them, they were in trouble but a decoy would help. If there was also one car beside them, which there was, they were in deeper trouble and Bruce would have to do all that he possibly could to stop them from following.

While Selina had argued with him, the planned decoy went smoothly and dragged one vehicle off their back and on to Gordon's. Gordon could drive a lot riskier without Fredericks' family in the car. Gordon and Blake could also remember the intricate details of the planned decoy - but he couldn't. With the help of Lucius Fox in his ear, Blake positioned them on a less traveled side road. However, they never lost two of the nondescript cars. The one behind them crept nearer but was far enough that he could use easily take it out. Bruce pulled his body partway out of the window. Shots fired instantly from afar, leaving their mark in the metal just inches beyond his head. The car that was once parallel slowed and came up from behind, swiftly occupying the vast space on the other side near Bruce. His life flashed before his eyes as the car gunned for him but Blake swerved sharply to avoid the crash. This time the movement sent Bruce off balance and teetering dangerously backwards with nothing but pavement beneath him.

"Bruce!" Selina's voice wafted towards him.

He blindly reached out a hand. He found the edge of the door and hefted himself up securely. Adrenaline coursed through him and although he knew his body was feeling these sudden pulls and later he'd be forced to deal with the aftermath, he couldn't sense the pain.

Bruce steadied himself as shots fired once again. He lifted the gun to his shoulder. He aimed, and the pulse disabled the car behind them.

* * *

Bruce had taken care of the trailing vehicle, but the tip of the device had been smashed in the process thanks to the overzealousness of the other driver. Bruce pulled his body into the car.

"You know that could've been your hand, big guy," Selina snapped as he dropped the device on the seat.

"But it wasn't." Other than a rise of his eyebrow, Bruce remained entirely focused, his face impassive. He took more pieces from the case and assembled a gun more efficiently than Selina had ever seen.

"I...you're...Mr. Wayne, you're...you're..." Annette whispered. "Oh my-"

Fredericks, too overcome with shock to speak, stared at Bruce.

"He may be Batman but he has limits, now even more than the rest of us." Selina glared at Bruce.

"Now is obviously not the time to go into those, Miss Kyle." It was his Bat voice, or close to it.

"It has to be the time," she hissed.

_"Now you sound like Alfred."_

"Well, someone has to sound like Alfred, if not to try to keep you alive," Selina snapped as he handed Blake the gun. Fredericks' eyes widened as his glance darted between Bruce and Selina.

Bruce's eyes darkened. "Enough, Selina. I need you to take the wheel."

"Here. I have to cover him," Blake said. She had no choice as Blake moved her way. She scrambled out of her seat, ignoring the stunned expressions of their passengers. She was lithe and limber, used to cramped quarters, as she deftly climbed over Blake to take his place. He wasn't more than average size, so the switch was fast.

The other car gunned for them as she took control of the wheel but she was ready. She swerved. Blake flinched as shots hit above his head but immediately fired back with the weapon Bruce gave him. Fredericks and Annette still hovered as close to the floor as possible, with Annette's body covering Cora's.

"What are you planning to do?" Selina snapped.

"Selina, get me as close as you can to the other car." The Bat hauled himself out the window.

"You're going to jump, aren't you?" If she shouted that like a girl as she thought she had, she still had no shame. This wasn't in the plans and why hadn't she realized that Bruce would do whatever it took, even jump onto a speeding car to keep everyone else alive? _He was going to get himself killed._

The other car slammed into the side, all of them lurching at the impact. She glanced at the mirrors. Her heart raced when she saw him practically disappear from sight. He couldn't have survived, even with his unrivaled grit and determination.

"Blake?" Her terror rose. She couldn't have lost him - again.

"He's fine! He's hanging on!" Blake tossed back in between firing. "But you have have to get us closer!"

"He knows he's not up to this. If he hits his head...falls on his back..." Selina hissed, eyes on the road and the other car. _Or forgets what he's doing..._

"Do you really think he had much of a choice? Shortly after that nurse incident, he asked Dr. Thompkins to implant a microchip in his body as a precaution. It delivers medication when the heart rate is raised naturally, like he said." Blake said in a rush, reloading. "It's similar to a shot of adrenaline and pain killers, concentrated and mixed in one. He had to be quiet to keep his heart rate down for this particular dosage. He wanted to make sure it lasted until he needed it, so it should be working this very moment."

"What if his memory fails? Does the medication cover that, too?" She seethed. Hearing the explanation for Bruce's somber mood this morning only stirred her anger. There had to be a fall out from the drug. She knew enough in her line of work to know that after being administered such a drastic medication, sooner or later Bruce would experience the repercussions of the strain he put on his entire body, and in particular his back.

"Just get him closer, Selina," Blake said brusquely. "Or he'll fall."

Shots volleyed, striking but not shattering the glass, proving that Bruce had chosen the vehicle well. She edged the vehicle nearer. She held it as steady as she could until Blake gave her a firm nod through the mirror.

"He made it," Blake swallowed, showing only a glimmer of relief. "He's on his own, now. Don't follow him. He said to keep everyone safe."

_Don't follow him? _He still refused to admit he had limits. No wonder Bruce hadn't told her about the backup plan. She'd have done everything in her power to disallow the crippled, forgetful man another brush with death. Not just everything. _Anything_ to prevent the car weaving in between the lanes as it was now. Certain that he'd hit his head and caused more damage, she braked two hundred yards away. But she couldn't look anymore.

Until Bruce screeched the car to a halt less than ten seconds later.

Blake slumped against the seat in relief but Selina clutched the wheel to keep her hands from shaking. He wiped his sleeve across his brow, his chuckle half-hearted and amazed. "He did it. Where did he learn this stuff?"

"He was trained to be a ninja assassin," Selina muttered under her breath, watching Bruce back up the vehicle to the side of the road in a whirlwind of dust.

"What?"

Knowing Blake hadn't heard her, Selina opted to complain. "He hates guns. Why did _you_ get to do the shooting?"

Blake smirked. "He said you would drive fast and dangerous even if it wasn't his Lamborghini."

* * *

The car idled after she pulled up next to him. His window down, Bruce regarded her indolently, as if he had been waiting on the side of the road for her to arrive for hours and not for a few seconds. The man couldn't possibly look so relaxed after what he just did.

"Fancy meeting you here, Miss Kyle," he drawled, tapping the wheel with his fingers with the grace of an old movie star. Grant, maybe. Or Bogart. He'd acquired sunglasses, too, within the short time he'd gained control of the vehicle. She clamped her mouth shut to keep from screaming at him that he'd frightened her out of at least twenty years of her life but here he was without a care in the world. His smile was fluid, even appreciative as he surely perused her from behind the shades. He was actually flirting. "Is everyone alright?"

She glanced back, meeting Fredericks' gaze first. The older man nodded as he held his granddaughter. Fredericks' eyes squeezed shut in relief as Cora's face pressed into his chest. Annette bent her head near her daughter's ear and murmured words of assurance. All looked fairly well, considering.

"Yes. They're fine."

"Good." Bruce patted the wheel with his palm once but made no move to get out of the car. His other arm rested on the door. "That's good."

She didn't understand why he wasn't in a hurry getting out of the car, but she wasn't about to rush him. He had to be exhausted and in pain after that stunt, despite the medication Leslie had given him. "That's not your usual choice of wheels."

"No," he shook his head slowly. "I don't think that's your first pick, either. But at least I got the black model." He chuckled, smiling and rubbing his hand on the outside of the battered door with fondness.

"It does have that going for it." She eyed the two unconscious men in the car with him. "Friends of yours?"

"Them?" He said with unabashed nonchalance, without a single glance at his passengers. "Oh, they couldn't handle the ride."

Selina didn't quite know how she'd missed Blake getting out of the car - but there he was cuffing the man slumped in the backseat and then the one beside Bruce. Blake pulled out his phone, Selina assumed to call Gordon.

"That was some trick you pulled." She didn't hide the fact that she was unhappy he'd left her in the dark. "Especially for a guy with memory problems. You have some dumb luck, Wayne."

"I knew you wouldn't like it." Bruce made a face.

"No, can't say that I did."

"I'm very sorry that I didn't tell you. I wish I had." He did look remorseful. "Even though you would have worried.

"Is that really the reason you kept me in the dark? Or did you finally wise up and figure out that you couldn't trust me?"

"Selina," his said, tone horrified. She was relieved she couldn't see his eyes. Her remark stung him, and she really hadn't meant to do that. She was scared. She had been terrified. And, now? She didn't know how to handle her own emotions. "I didn't want to worry you.

"Okay." Selina then found it within herself to somehow maintain a quiet, even tone despite reliving in her mind, over and over, her worst fear- his death. He could have died before she had a chance to tell him. "It may take me awhile to forgive you for this one. You just couldn't resist, could you?"

"I'm sorry, Selina. But I didn't have a choice." He pulled off his faux goatee and hair, which looked a little worse for wear, and flung them to the ground. He ran a hand through his long, matted down hair and sighed. "You do understand that, right?"

She knew. He'd had to risk his life to save them all. She also knew it was always going to be like this with him. And it was why...It was one of the reasons_ why she loved him._

"I think you better hop in this car before the cops come, handsome."

"Nope. No hopping." He shook his head again, but this time even slower, as if the motion was too difficult for him to master. He frowned at her. "Not going to happen."

"What's wrong? Did you get a knock on the head?"

"No, don't think so." His voice became almost too quiet. "But you know that wound I have on my side?"

"Yes," she strangled out despite the growing lump in her throat.

A car door opened. It was Annette, racing over to Bruce. Selina couldn't force herself to move. She knew he was hurt, could tell by the weakening of his voice. But Annette was a nurse. _She'd_ know what to do. Selina didn't, although she would try. _She_ wasn't a nurse. She was a woman who played one to stay near the man she had wronged and missed and then who intrigued her. But now she played the part because he completely claimed her heart. And then he lifted a hand and she saw what coated the palm of his gloved hand. Blood. Her face heated, but she just sat there. Useless, but hoping that the man she loved wasn't injured more than she thought. Unable to go to him, but frightened for what she couldn't see beyond that door. She'd watched him go to his apparent death twice now. How could she handle a third time?

"The one that I got when...well, I don't really remember when it happened. Or how." He wiped the blood on his shirt, the part she could see. Her eyes widened at the large smear it left behind.

"Miranda Tate. You told me she was Talia, Ra's al Ghul's daughter and the mastermind behind it all. She stabbed you just minutes before you took the bomb over the bay." Her voice sounded strange, breathless and worried and certainly not her own. She forced herself to undo her seatbelt. She loved him - she couldn't sit back no matter the emotions stripping her of her own defenses.

"It's a stab wound? Miranda was Talia, Ra's al Ghul's daughter? Well, that sure clears up some things. I thought that was the case but things are a bit hazy," Bruce muttered in disgust. He sighed and rested his head against the seat as Annette opened his door. "About that stab wound. I don't think you'll be too happy about this, either. I think it reopened."


End file.
